a 


NAOMI. 


NAOMI; 


BOSTON,  TWO  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO. 


ELIZA  BUCKMINSTER  LEE, 

AUTHOR   OF  THE    "LIFE  OF  JEAN   PAUL." 


BOSTON: 

WM.    CROSBY    &    H.    P.    NICHOLS. 

Ill  WASHINGTON  STREET. 
1848. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1847,  by 

Wai.  CROSBY  &  H.  P.  NICHOLS, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  th-  District  of  Massachusetts. 


CAMBRIDGE: 

M  E  T  C  A  L  V      AND      COMPANY, 
PRINTERS  TO  THE  UNIVERSITY. 


PREFACE. 


I  HAVE  endeavoured  in  the  following  pages 
to  preserve,  as  much  as  was  in  my  power,  an 
exact  justice  between  the  two  parties  j  to  pre 
sent  the  bigoted  age,  the  limited  views,  the  deep 
provocation,  and  the  stern  justice  of  our  fore 
fathers  *  in  their  dealings  with  the  Quakers ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  I  have  not  concealed 
the  audacity,  the  determined  perseverance,  and 
the  spiritual  pride  of  those  illiterate  Quaker 
women  who  came  to  this  country  as  rnuch  to 
gain  notoriety  as  from  a  sincere  desire  for  mar 
tyrdom.  That  such  was  the  case  in  particular 
instances  in  no  degree  impairs  the  simple  and 

M  95C4 


VI  PREFACE. 

sublime  truth  of  the  Quaker  doctrine  of  "  the 
inward  light." 

Although  some  of  the  actors  are  fictitious,  no 
incident  is  introduced  touching  the  Quakers 
that  did  not  actually  occur  in  the  years  through 
which  the  events  of  my  story  pass.  The  in 
cidents  are  real ;  hut  that  I  have  preserved  the 
costume  and  the  coloring  of  the  age,  I  can 
scarcely  hope.  To  some  persons,  I  am  aware, 
no  picture  of  a  particular  time,  which  does  not 
reproduce  the  exact  language  and  manners  of 
the  period,  can  have  much  value.  Such  an  at 
tempt  requires  a  long  and  familiar  practice,  or  a 
higher  order  of  genius  than  I  can  pretend  to 
possess.  I  have  aspired  only  to  take  up  a 
humble  position  upon  that  which  Scott  calls 
the  extensive  neutral  ground  of  manners  and 
sentiments  that  are  common  to  us  and  our  an 
cestors,  arising  out  of  the  principles  of  our 
common  nature  and  existing  alike  in  both  states 
of  society.  The  difficulty  of  reproducing  even 


PREFACE.  Vll 

such  an  imperfect  picture  of  the  domestic  man 
ners  of  our  ancestors,  where  hints  are  to  be 
gleaned  in  the  records  of  probate-offices  and 
the  invoices  of  vessels,  will,  I  trust,  appeal  to 
the  candor  of  my  readers  to  pardon  the  pre 
sumptuous  attempt. 

E.  B.  L. 

DECEMBER  1,  1847. 


NAOMI: 

OR  BOSTON  TWO  HUNDRED  YEARS   AGO. 
CHAPTER   I. 

"  Look  now  abroad,  —  another  race  has  filled 

These  populous  borders  ;  wide  the  wood  recedes, 
And  towns  shoot  up,  and  fertile  realms  are  tilled  ; 
The  land  is  full  of  harvests  and  green  meads." 

BRYANT. 

LET  us  ascend  one  of  the  many  elevated  spots 
in  the  vicinity  of  Boston  ;  we  look  around  upon 
a  beautiful  panorama  of  protecting  hills,  now  dot 
ted  with  sheltered  and  cultivated  farms,  —  gar 
den  farms,  like  that  of  Eden  ;  then  gaze  a  mo 
ment  upon  the  continued  chain  of  towns  that 
have  not  yet  lost  the  white  gloss  of  newness, 
and  that,  like  a  shining  silver  fringe,  encircle  the 
skirts  of  the  hills.  Then,  as  the  eye  rests  upon 
the  modest  towers  where  science  and  learning 
dwell,  or  is  lifted  to  the  iron  walls  where  Chris 
tian  love  ministers  to  the  broken  spirit  (however 
much  we  may  wish  the  several  positions  re- 
1 


2  NAOMI. 

versed,  —  that  the  torch  of  science  were  lighted 
upon  tthe  hill-tops,  and  the  darkened  mind  and 
broken'  spirit  sheltered  in  the  valley),  the  soul 
is  yet  filled  with  gratitude.  We  feel  the  throb 
bing  of  the  air  and  the  trembling  of  the  ground 
as  the  frequent  engine  shoots  arrowy  by,  leaving 
its  long  trail  of  smoke,  and  the  sharp  vibration 
of  its  whistle  on  the  ear.  With  an  effort,  we 
recollect  that  scarcely  two  centuries  ago  this 
varied  picture  was  all  one  unbroken  forest,  —  in 
the  language  of  the  time  "  a  howling  wilder 
ness," —  all  but  a  few  little  scattered  specks, 
where  the  smoke  of  human  habitations  rose  in 
the  twilight  air ;  and  we  feel  awed  by  the  power 
of  the  giant  Time,  who,  as  he  has  trodden  lightly 
or  heavily  over  the  two  centuries,  has  wrought 
these  changes  and  left  these  marks  of  his  foot 
steps. 

At  the  period  when  the  incidents  that  fill  the 
following  pages  occurred,  Boston  had  been  set 
tled  just  thirty  years.  At  the  point  of  the  pen 
insula,  in  the  crescent  between  its  two  protect 
ing  hills,  nestled  the  little  prosperous  town, 
sheltered  on  the  north  by  its  beautiful  green 
eminence,  with  its  undulating  line  of  summit, 
that  gave  it  the  name  of  Trimountain ;  while, 
separated  by  the  expanding  mouth  of  the  royal 
Charles,  the  twin  town  of  Winnisimmet,  beauti- 


NAOMI.  6 

fully  planted  on  the  opposite  heights,  was  seen 
clinging  to  the  hill-side. 

Thirty  years  had  passed  since  the  arrival  of 
Winthrop  and  his  company.  Although  they 
surmounted  undreamed-of  hardships,  almost  mi 
raculous  prosperity  had  attended  their  pious 
enterprise.  Both  Copps  and  Fort  hills  were  now 
well  fortified  ;  the  former  being  well  mounted 
with  heavy  artillery,  the  latter  protected  by  a 
strong  battery  made  of  the  giant  trees  of  the 
ready  forest.  Upon  the  third,  the  green  em 
inence  already  mentioned,  was  placed  a  beacon, 
ready  to  be  lighted  at  the  approach  of  danger. 
The  little  settlement,  sheltered  in  the  lap  of 
these  three  hills,  had  already  assumed  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  considerable  and  very  active  and 
enterprising  town.  It  is  true  that  no  steeple  yet 
rose  above,  pointing  the  thoughts  heavenward, 
but  many  goodly  houses  had  been  built.  The 
streets  within  the  crescent  formed  by  the  two 
projecting  eminences  were  narrow  and  wind 
ing,  laid  out  apparently  as  convenience  dictated 
paths  to  the  first  settlers  ;  but  beyond,  towards 
Beacon  hill  and  the  isthmus,  or  Neck,  "  were 
many  beautiful  squares  for  gardens  and  orchards, 
with  large  and  spacious  houses,  some  fairly  set 
forth  with  brick,  tile,  slate,  and  stone,  and  or 
derly  placed,  whose  continual  enlargement,"  saith 


4  NAOMI. 

Johnson,  "presageth  some  sumptuous  city.  And 
these  streets  were  full  of  boys  and  girls  sport 
ing  up  and  down,  with  a  continual  concourse 
of  people."  * 

One  generation  of  the  emigrants  had  passed 
away,  and  slept,  not  with  their  fathers  in  con 
secrated  tombs  beneath  cathedral  domes,  nor  in 
green,  sheltered  grave-yards  under  Gothic  spires 
that  spread  their  ivy  tracery  to  woo  the  breezes 
of  England,  but  in  honored  graves,  beneath  the 
virgin  sod,  or  lulled  by  ocean  waves  upon  a 
rocky  bed.  The  honored  Winthrop,  the  Puritan 
saint,  Cotton,  the  humble-minded  Shepherd  of 
Cambridge,  the  strong-hearted  Hooker,  had  all 
passed  away, — they  and  those  noble  women,  their 
wives,  —  and  had  carried  with  them  much  that 
had  formed  the  peculiar  character,  the  grace 
and  charm,  of  the  first  colonization  of  Boston 
Bay.  These  first  settlers  brought  with  them 
the  genial  influences,  the  refining  culture,  of  a 
high  state  of  civilization.  The  next  generation 
were  sterner  and  harsher  men.  They  were  the 
sons,  born  or  educated  in  this  less  genial  soil, 
of  those  men  who  had  grown  and  ripened  in 
England  before  they  set  foot  upon  it,  and  they 
partook,  perhaps,  of  the  rougher  and  colder  cli- 

*  Johnson's  description  of  Boston  in  1657. 


NAOMI.  5 

mate.  The  snow  of  their  exterior,  hiding  the 
beautiful  vegetation  of  Christian  love,  was  deeper 
than  that  of  their  fathers,  and  the  rock  required 
repeated  strokes  to  bring  forth  the  sparkling 
waters  of  refreshing  grace. 

The  children  of  the  first  settlers,  the  first 
generation  born  upon  the  soil  of  New  England, 
grew  up  in  the  absence  of  all  those  beauti 
ful,  humanizing,  and  softening  influences  that 
belonged  to  the  mother  land.  Their  first  ex 
perience  of  life  was  a  sombre  and  cold  climate, 
a  hard,  rocky,  and  sterile  soil.  The  wealth 
brought  by  their  fathers  had  been  expended  in 
providing  the  first  means  of  living,  the  necessary 
wants  of  that  first  colonization  ;  and,  although 
they  began  immediately  again  to  accumulate 
riches  with  the  aid  of  a  most  prosperous  com 
merce,  the  first  generation  experienced  from  in 
fancy  many  hardships,  and  acquired  a  character 
of  stern  resistance,  an  intrepid  boldness  and  un 
wearied  perseverance  in  contending  with  out 
ward  circumstances.  They  grew  up,  also,  in 
the  absence  of  all  those  influences  that  fill  the 
mind  with  the  sentiment  of  loyalty,  perhaps  the 
most  graceful  of  all  sentiments,  as  it  gives  dig 
nity  to  the  humility  with  which  we  regard  the 
object  of  our  loyal  affection.  Reverence  for 
God,  reverence  for  law,  took  the  place  of  the 


6  NAOMI. 

sentiment  of  loyalty.  Here  was  no  court,  no 
monarch,  no  pageantry  of  rank  or  power,  no 
imposing  church  nor  bishop  ;  and,  as  a  boy  ad 
vanced  into  manhood,  there  was  nothing  above 
him  but  the  broad  heavens,  nothing  around  him 
but  law  and  order,  to  which  his  proud  spirit 
must  bend  and  subject  itself. 

The  genial  influences  of  antiquity,  also,  were 
lost  to  the  second  race  born  in  New  England, 
as  they  have  been  for  all  succeeding  generations 
here.  The  venerable  cathedral,  the  old  gray 
abbeys,  the  mouldering  monuments,  the  conse 
crated  church-yards,  the  old  stone  cross  guarding 
the  consecrated  spring  or  fountain,  —  all  these 
ancient  symbols,  all  that  way-side  poetry  of  life 
that  met  the  wanderer  at  every  step  in  England, 
were  wholly  lost  here.  Only  the  grand  and  ever- 
eloquent  features  of  nature  could  here  speak  to 
the  soul.  The  immensity  of  the  ocean,  and 
the  savage  solitudes  of  the  forest,  —  they  gave 
a  stern  elevation  to  the  character ;  but  none 
of  those  graceful  wreaths  and  tendrils  of  what 
is  symbolical  and  poetical  in  antiquity  and  in 
life  adorned  the  stern  Puritanism  of  the  New 
England  character. 

England,  too,  at  this  time  deserved  the  epithet 
of  "  Merry  England."  Fairs,  merry-makings, 
games,  and  sports  were  constantly  recurring  in 


NAOMI.  7 

the  mother  land.  The  old  maskings,  the 
Christmas  games,  the  thousand  quaint  devices 
and  amusements  of  fairs,  the  harvest-home,  the 
May-pole  and  festival,  Punch  and  Judy,  the 
Merry-Andrew,  —  all  were  cut  off  from  the 
youthful  mind  in  this  country.  Life  was  strip 
ped  at  once,  as  with  an  iron  hand,  of  all  gayety, 
as  we  see  the  gay,  flowering  weeds  of  a  sum 
mer  morning  cut  down  with  one  swoop  of  the 
scythe.  All  these  circumstances,  and  many  oth 
ers  which  I  cannot  mention,  account  for  that 
remarkable  modification  which  took  place  in 
the  character  of  the  second  generation,  or  rather 
in  the  first  born  upon  the  soil,  and  that  has 
transmitted  its  deep  coloring  to  their  descend 
ants  in  New  England  even  to  the  present  day. 
They  account  foj  the  added  austerity  and  big 
otry  of  that  and  the  next  generation  ;  and  the 
consideration  of  all  these  genial  influences,  at 
once  stripped  away,  should  mitigate  the  severity 
of  our  judgment  when  we  look  upon  their  nar 
row  views,  their  severity  towards  those  who 
differed  from  them,  and  their  apparent  cruelty 
to  the  Quakers.  Life,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
robbed  at  once  for  them  of  the  softening  in 
fluences  of  antiquity,  of  the  sentiment  of  loy 
alty  and  reverence  of  those  of  higher  rank,  of 
the  genial  effects  of  gayety  and  social  amuse- 


8  NAOMI. 

ments,  and  of  all  the  beautiful  poetry  of  exist 
ence  spread  like  wild-flowers  upon  the  rough 
granite  of  life  ;  and  what  did  they  receive  as 
a  compensation  ?  They  were  the  chosen  people, 
the  favorites  of  the  Most  High.  They  had  been 
led  into  the  wilderness  by  the  Almighty,  to  do 
and  to  suifer  for  a  peculiar  work,  a  most  holy 
purpose,  —  to  preserve  the  true  faith  once  deliv 
ered  to  the  saints,  and  to  found  a  church  perfect 
in  doctrine  and  in  practice.  They,  like  the 
Jews  of  old,  were  to  be  a  peculiar,  a  chosen 
people.  The  cloud  and  the  pillar  of  fire  were 
to  guard  them  by  day  and  by  night.  Not  civil, 
but  religious,  bondage  was  the  result.  They 
had  suffered  the  hardships,  they  had  borne  the 
heat  and  burden  of  the  day,  to  earn  the  priv 
ilege  of  sitting  down  at  evening,  under  the 
shadow  of  their  own  vine  and  their  own  fig- 
tree,  to  worship  God  in  their  own  way,  to 
have  the  Most  High  draw  near  and  to  sit  down 
in  intimate  communion  with  Him.  Thus  all 
who  disturbed  their  worship  were  aliens  and 
enemies,  to  be  thrust  out  from  among  them ; 
heathen,  to  whom  the  whole  country  was  wide 
enough,  but  from  whose  incursions  their  own 
little  inclosure  was  shut  and  barred. 


CHAPTER   II. 

"  Before  these  fields  were  shorn  and  tilled, 

Full  to  the  brim  the  rivers  flowed ; 
The  melodies  of  waters  filled 

The  fresh  and  boundless  wood  ; 
And  torrents  dashed,  and  rivulets  played, 
And  fountains  spouted  in  the  shade."  —  BRYANT. 

LET  us  go  back  in  imagination  to  a  Septem 
ber  afternoon  in  the  year  1660.  The  season 
and  the  hour  was  one  of  almost  unparalleled 
beauty.  It  was  the  first  day  of  September. 
Nature  had  put  off  her  bridal  robes,  and  assumed 
the  paler  and  faded  tints  of  widowhood,  prepar 
atory  to  the  gorgeous  drapery  with  which  she 
would  celebrate  a  few  weeks  later  the  funeral 
of  the  year.  A  cloudless  sky  and  a  deep  repose 
rested  upon  the  earth,  and  seemed  to  brood  over 
the  calm  waters  of  the  bay.  The  trees  of  the 
hundred  islands  with  which  it  is  studded,  not 
then,  as  now,  stripped  of  their  native  fores'ts, 
caught  the  rays  of  the  declining  sun  in  their  top 
most  branches,  while  the  light  scarcely  penetrated 
the  close  undergrowth  beneath.  The  sails  of 
many  small  vessels,  coming  up  with  the  evening 
tide,  shone  snowy  white  upon  a  darker  back- 


10  NAOMI. 

ground,  and  the  setting  sun  glanced  in  diamond 
drops  from  the  paddles  of  an  Indian  canoe  as  it 
shot  from  island  to  island.  Much  of  the  little 
town  lay  in  deep  shadow  as  well  as  repose,  built 
as  it  was  close  upon  the  water,  beneath  the  pro 
tection  of  its  armed  heights,  while  the  out 
stretched  curtain  of  its  Trimountain  was  as 
suming  the  gray  tints  of  an  autumn  afternoon. 

But  the  object  of  most  intense  and  absorbing 
interest  to  the  groups  of  citizens  collected  upon 
the  summit  of  the  most  eastern  eminence  was 
a  large  and  gallant  ship,  that  had  long  been 
looked  and  prayed  for  from  the  mother  coun 
try,  and  now  at  length,  as  the  winds  had  fallen 
and  there  was  a  perfect  calm,  was  coming  slow 
ly  up  with  the  evening  tide.  This  ship  was 
freighted  with  many  hopes,  and  not  without 
fears,  for  every  family  of  the  little  town.  It 
was  expected,  also,  to  confirm  the  rumors  that 
had  reached  the  colony  of  the  restoration  of 
Charles  the  Second.  Perhaps  even  the  reg 
icides,  no  longer  safe  in  England,  would  flee 
for  safety  to  this  country,  and  had  taken  refuge 
in  that  very  ship. 

Some  rude  benches  had  been  placed  upon 
the  hill,  and  there  were  seated  many  of  the 
elders  of  the  town ;  some  with  spy-glasses  at 
their  eyes,  all  with  a  composed  gravity  of  mien, 


NAOMI.  11 

concealing  under  the  cold  exterior  of  Puritan 
asceticism  the  excited  feelings  and  the  variety 
of  passions  that  they  in  common  with  other 
men  possessed.  The  costume  of  that  period 
was  not,  like  that  of  the  present  day,  a  stiff  and 
uniform  outline  of  dark  broadcloth  ;  the  gravest 
gentlemen  of  the  period,  in  conformity  to  the 
picturesque  fashions  of  the  time  of  the  Charleses, 
wore  ample  cloaks  of  velvet,  turned  out  with 
some  brilliant  color,  and  over  them  the  broad 
collars  of  lace  called  Vandykes,  and  bands  of 
the  same  material.  The  Puritan  high-crowned 
hat  was  just  beginning  to  give  place  to  the 
beaver,  turned  up  at  the  side,  with  plumes  and 
gold  lace.  Swords  were  worn  by  gentlemen, 
and  rings  upon  their  hands. 

Perhaps  thero  never  was  a  time  when  the 
distinctions  of  rank  were  greater.  The  artisans 
and  men  of  the  lower  classes  formed  a  contrast 
indeed,  with  their  doublets  of  untanned  leather, 
or  of  a  coarse  cloth  called  drugget ;  and  as  they 
mixed  with  the  other  groups,  they  formed  a  line 
of  distinction  of  ranks  infinitely  wider  than,  in 
deed  unknown,  at  the  present  day.  Groups, 
somewhat  more  lively  in  exterior  bearing,  were 
scattered  at  intervals,  conversing  in  low  tones, 
and  the  children,  just  released  from  school,  were 
playing  their  childish  games  with  an  almost 


12  NAOMI. 

ludicrous  gravity  under  the  severe  eyes  of  their 
elders,  while  the  shrill  treble  of  a  young  voice 
would  sometimes  rise  above  the  subdued  tone 
of  the  general  conversation. 

It  is  impossible  for  us  at  this  distant  day  to 
enter  into  the  feelings  of  intense  and  varied 
interest  with  which  the  different  groups  col 
lected  upon  the  hill-side  watched  and  hailed 
the  vessel  whose  white  sails  had  been  filled  with 
the  breezes  of  England,  that  mother  land  for 
which  they  all  yearned  ;  not  that  they  came 
here,  as  other  colonists  have  gone  to  other  shores, 
to  acquire  the  means  of  returning  to  spend  their 
hard-earned  wealth  where  their  hearts  had 
always  remained.  The  chain  that  attached 
them  to  the  mother  country  remained  bright  as 
ever,  but  they  knew  that  they  should  find  their 
graves,  as  well  as  their  homes,  in  this.  England 
had  not  yet  done  any  thing  to  estrange  them 
from  her.  Their  hearts  yearned  towards  her, 
as  the  settlers  in  the  Far  West  look  back  to  the 
firesides  of  their  New  England  homes,  where 
mothers,  sisters,  friends,  and  lovers  still  rivet 
their  earliest  and  dearest  memories.  They  iden 
tified  themselves  with  England  ;  her  history  was 
theirs,  her  literature  was  theirs.  They  had  fled 
only  from  the  hierarchy  and  the  priesthood. 
The  king,  the  exile  king,  was  again  theirs. 


NAOMI.  13 

From  England  came  their  preachers  and  their 
teachers,  their  garments,  their  fashions,  their 
news,  their  opinions ;  the  heart  of  England, 
with  every  beat,  sent  the  warm  blood  tingling 
to  the  very  extremities  of  these  colonies. 

There  was  scarcely  one  among  all  these 
groups  who  had  not  some  nearly  connected  rel 
ative,  some  patron  or  some  dependent,  some 
closely  allied  friend,  in  the  mother  country,  — 
son  or  daughter,  brother  or  lover,  from  whom 
their  hearts  thirsted  for  the  long-delayed  tidings. 
England  and  Boston  were  then  like  the  two 
ends  of  the  magnetic  telegraph  ;  the  stroke  at 
the  one  end  trembled  through  the  whole  dis 
tance,  and  made  its  distinct  impression  at  the 
other  extremity.  Yessels  of  every  description 
were  constantly  passing  and  repassing  between 
the  colony  and  the  mother  country ;  yet,  on 
account  of  a  long  continuance  of  contrary 
winds,  it  was  now  some  time  since  any  news 
had  been  received  from  thence. 

The  various  groups  collected  upon  the  hill 
had  each  different,  but  equally  absorbing,  inter 
ests  in  the  tidings  of  the  approaching  ship. 
In  the  preceding  July,  the  colonists  had  affected 
to  doubt  the  restoration  of  the  royal  family  ; 
but  now  it  was  too  certain,  and  they  feared 
the  swarms  of  enemies  that  would  gather  round 


14  NAOMI. 

the  new  government.  The  elders  were  anx 
iously  discussing  the  effect  which  the  return 
of  King  Charles  would  have  upon  their  trade 
and  commerce.  Little  hope  was  entertained  that 
his  authority  would  be  as  favorable  to  them  as 
that  of  the  Long  Parliament,  or  as  indulgent  as 
that  of  Cromwell.  Besides,  they  drew  their  knit 
brows  together  and  whispered  of  the  Quakers. 
The  royal  judge  had  decided  that,  in  all  crim 
inal  cases,  appeal  should  be  made  to  England  ; 
how  then  would  the  news  of  their  scourgings 
and  mutilations,  even  the  hanging,  of  the  Quak 
ers  be  received  there  ?  But  even  at  this  early 
period,  in  those  stern  and  knit  brows  might  be 
seen  the  determined  opposition  of  these  men 
to  any  interference  that  would  rob  them  of  the 
power  of  dealing  with  their  own  heretics.  No, 
Satan,  the  father  of  lies  and  of  heresies,  was  their 
especial  criminal ;  their  own  discipline  was  the 
only  discipline  that  would  do  for  him ;  and  it 
had  never  dawned  upon  their  minds  that  tol 
eration  could  ever  be  the  means  of  reformation 
for  so  dark  a  culprit. 

They  were  conversing,  in  some  of  the  groups, 
of  the  various  annoyances  and  insults  lately  re 
ceived  from  the  Quakers.  The  very  last  Sab 
bath  Mr.  Wilson  had  been  insulted  in  his  own 
pulpit.  Then  whispers  went  round,  that,  in  that 


NAOMI.  15 

very  ship  now  approaching,  some  of  the  escaped 
regicides  were  concealed,  and  seeking  a  more 
secure  asylum  in  this  country,  where  there 
would  be  little  fear  of  discovery. 

"  Yes,"  said  an  aged  man,  thrusting  his  cane 
with  force  upon  the  ground,  "  if  Charles  takes 
our  enemies  under  his  protection,  we  will  retal 
iate  ;  we  will  keep  his  safe  from  his  vengeance. 
He  shall  never  lay  his  royal  finger  upon  a  sin 
gle  regicide  who  throws  himself  into  our  safe 
keeping." 

"  No,"  said  another  deep,  determined  voice, 
"  let  the  royal  commissioners  beat  the  forests  in 
vain  ;  no  dastardly  treachery  will  be  found  on 
this  side  the  water." 

"  Well,"  said  a  gentleman  that  looked  like  the 
schoolmaster,  "  the  Council  will  now  give  orders 
for  a  coronation,  and  the  school-boys  will  get  a 
holiday.  They  and  I  will  be  the  only  gainers 
in  our  poor  little  town  by  the  return  of  his  most 
gracious  Majesty." 

"  Poor,  do  you  call  it  ?  "  cried  another  ;  "  thirty 
years  ago  but  two  smokes  arose  in  this  whole 
place,  —  there  and  there,"  pointing  with  his  cane 
to  the  spots  ;  "  the  path  between  the  two  cabins 
was  made  by  the  cow  passing  through  the  brush 
wood  from  door  to  door  to  give  milk  to  the 
young  children,  —  the  water  from  the  springs 


16  NAOMI. 

was  sweet  enough  for  men ;  and  now  look  at  the 
goodly  wharves  and  warehouses,  the  masts  and 
shipping,  the  fisheries  stretching  across  the  flats, 
the  loaded  ferry-boats ;  and  where  will  you  see 
more  spacious  dwellings  than  the  governor's  and 
Sir  Harry  Vane's  ?  No,  no,  Charles  has  not  a 
brighter  gem  in  all  his  coronet  than  this  little 
town  of  Boston." 

"  No  thanks  to  him  nor  his  father  that  it  is 
set  in  it,"  cried  another;  "but  let  us  keep  it 
bright." 

While  these  good  citizens  of  Boston  were 
exercising  the  talent  for  which  their  successors 
have  continued  to  be  distinguished,  that  of  com 
mending  the  gem  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  lower 
down  upon  the  hill  a  group  of  young  women 
stood  apart,  their  fair  complexions  showing  their 
English  descent ;  but  they  had  been  long  enough 
in  this  climate  of  extreme  variation  of  temper 
ature  to  lose  that  appearance  of  robust  health, 
that  ruddy  complexion,  which  distinguished  them 
at  home.  That  too  frail  delicacy  of  appearance 
was  just  beginning  to  show  itself,  which  is  the 
gift  of  our  climate,  inducing  an  early  beauty 
and  a  too  early  fading  and  withering  of  that 
delicate  beauty.  Hoods  of  black  velvet  or  silk, 
confined  closely  under  the  chin,  and  through 
which  the  face  peered  as  through  a  cage,  and 


NAOMI.  17 

an  amplitude  of  skirts  even  greater  than  at  the 
present  day,  showed  that  the  more  seductive 
fashions  of  the  reign  of  the  second  Charles  had 
not  yet  been  adopted  by  the  New  England 
dames. 

"  We  shall  have  some  new  brocades  for  our 
winter  wear  by  this  ship,"  said  one. 

"  And  no  more  sad  colors,"  remarked  another  ; 
"  since  Charles  and  his  court  have  returned,  the 
ladies,  I  hear,  are  very  gay ;  all  the  lovely  French 
fashions  that  the  court  learnt  at  St.  Germain 
are  introduced,  and  Mrs.  Gwinne  has  rare  taste 
in  dress." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  another,  looking  up  at  the 
bench  above  ;  "  you  will  be  heard,  and  we  shall 
have  more  sermons  upon  dress,  veils,  and  long 
hair.  By  the  way,  the  court  ladies  have  intro 
duced  the  fashion  of  natural  curls,  hanging  all 
round  the  head,  like  those  of  little  girls  as  they 
grow  naturally,  without  scissors." 

"  And  no  jewels  in  the  hair  ? "  asked  another. 

"  Ah,  no !  very  likely  all  the  jewels  of  the 
Royalists  went  to  support  the  king  and  his  family 
in  their  exile." 

"  And  you,  Mabel,  do  you  not  expect  your 
wedding-gear  by  this  vessel  ?  The  ring,  I  hear, 
came  long  ago." 

The  young  girl  blushed,  and  some  smiles 
2 


18  NAOMI. 

passed  round.  All  smiled  but  one  fair  girl,  who 
had  taken  no  part  in  the  discussion,  and  whose 
pensive  expression  of  countenance  showed  that 
some  care  weighed  upon  her  mind.  "  God 
grant,"  she  sighed,  "  that  I  may  hear  by  this 
vessel !  " 

"Who  knows?"  said  one  of  them  kindly; 
"  perhaps  he  has  come  himself,  in  this  very  ship, 
and  will  take  you  back  this  time  as  his  wife." 

"  Ah  !  good  bye,"  they  added  gayly.  "  Who 
knows?  Invite  us  to  the  wedding." 

A  bright  color  mounted  to  the  temples  of  the 
young  girl ;  but  it  faded  away  as  soon,  and  tears 
rushed  to  her  eyes.  The  others  were  silent. 
They  did  not  intend  to  wound,  and  they  turned 
away  from  witnessing  her  emotion,  while  all 
descended  the  hill  together. 

The  last  rays  of  the  sun  had  faded  from  the 
tree-tops,  as  the  vessel  touched  the  end  of  Long 
Wharf,  and  took  its  place  amid  "  shipping  from 
Holland,  France,  Spain,  and  Portugal,  that 
already  crowded  the  little  port."  *  A  carriage, 
with  drawn  curtains,  that  had  been  waiting  on 
the  wharf,  was  then  seen  in  the  dim  twilight  to 
drive  slowly  up  through  King  Street,  and  turn 
into  the  spacious  yard  and  garden  of  one  of  the 

*  Johnson's  description  of  Boston,  1651. 


NAOMI.  19 

best  houses  of  what  was  then  called  the  main 
road,  now  Washington  Street. 

It  was  Saturday  evening  j  the  Sabbath  had 
commenced,  and  the  exciting  event  of  the  arrival 
of  this  long-expected  ship  created  no  bustle  or 
noise  in  this  well-ordered  religious  community. 
All  news,  even  the  reading  of  letters,  must  be 
deferred  till  after  the  going  down  of  the  sun  of 
the  Sabbath  that  had  already  commenced.  The 
groups  collected  in  various  places  were  already 
dispersed,  and  were  winding  their  solitary  steps 
to  their  respective  abodes.  Darkness  began  to 
settle  over  the  little  town.  All  shops  and  places 
of  business  were  closed.  He  who  had  neglected 
to  provide  food  for  the  next  day,  the  Sabbath, 
must  fast,  for  nothing  could  be  purchased  after 
sunset.  The  bt,ys  were  now  all  silent ;  no 
youthful  voices  were  heard  in  the  streets  ;  the 
doors  of  all  houses  were  closed.  The  bright  rays 
of  the  full  moon,  just  rising  in  sheets  of  silver 
over  the  waters  of  the  bay,  were  excluded  by 
the  shutters  of  the  windows  ;  the  streets  were 
deserted  ;  solitude  and  silence,  except  the  rare 
footfall  of  a  late-returned  wanderer,  reigned  with 
out,  and  only  the  voice  of  prayer  was  heard 
within  the  houses  of  this  Puritan  town. 

Without,  however,  the  Sabbath  seemed  to  the 
devout  ear  most  solemn  and  holy.  The  place 


20  NAOMI. 

was  full  of  trees,  and  the  night  wind  had  be 
gun  its  organ-dirges  within  their  branches  j  the 
hushed  moonbeams  rested  upon  the  waving  sum 
mits,  and  marked  long  shadows  upon  the  fra 
grant  earth.*  The  myriads  of  insects,  aided  by 
the  deeper  tones  of  the  frogs,  began  their  even 
ing  chorus  in  the  solitudes  of  the  Common  and 
under  the  thickets  of  Beacon  hill.  Their  "  mys 
terious  psalmody "  continued  all  night  long  ; 
all  evenings  were  alike  sacred  to  them,  and  all 
filled  with  a  sacred  concert  of  praise. 

In  the  vessel  that  we  have  just  seen  ap 
proach,  and  take  its  place  at  the  wharf,  there 
was  one  person  upon  whom  we  wish  to  fix  the 
attention  of  the  reader.  It  was  a  young  lady 
apparently  less  than  twenty,  although  the  usual 
calm  and  composed  gravity  of  her  countenance 
might  to  a  cursory  observer  have  added  a  few 
years  to  her  age.  As  the  vessel  approached 
nearer  to  the  land,  and  threaded  among  the 
islands  of  the  bay,  there  might  have  been  seen 
upon  that  usually  serene  and  lovely  countenance 
all  the  variations  of  hope  and  fear,  and  uncer 
tain,  timid  expectation.  Since  land  had  been 
called  out  from  the  masthead,  she  had  stood 


*  Winthrop  says  in  his  Journal,  that  when  they  approached 
the  land,  "  there  came  a  smell  off  the  shore  like  the  smell  of  a 
garden." 


NAOMI.  21 

upon  the  taffrail  of  the  vessel,  watching  with 
intense  curiosity  all  the  changes  of  the  coast, 
and  trying  to  fix  her  imagination  upon  the  va 
rious  localities  where  she  could  recall  the  scenes 
that  she  had  read  and  pondered  upon  with  the 
deepest  interest. 

Could  she  not  see  with  her  eye,  she  asked  the 
captain,  who  stood  at  her  side,  could  she  not  see 
the  frozen  and  slippery  rock  at  Plymouth,  and 
the  hemlock  wood,  laden  with  snow,  where 
the  young  mother,  pale  with  terror,  held  her 
infant  clasped  closer  to  her  breast,  while  her 
fearful  eye  sought  the  wood,  expecting  a  horrible 
savage  to  start  from  the  thicket  ? 

Naomi,  the  soft  and  Scripture  name  borne  by 
my  heroine,  —  Naomi  Worthington  had  been 
nearly  an  orphan  hi  England.  Her  mother,  when 
she  was  ten  years  old,  had  married  a  second  time, 
and  accompanied  her  husband,  one  of  the  early 
Puritan  emigrants,  to  the  New  World,  leaving 
the  little  girl  with  attached  and  faithful  guardi 
ans,  the  relatives  of  her  own  father.  But  Naomi 
had  always  yearned  for  her  mother,  and  had  at 
length  obtained  leave  from  her  guardians  to 
come  to  the  New  World,  to  meet  once  more  the 
mother  from  whom  she  had  been  separated 
nearly  ten  years. 

It  required  some  courage  in  the  poor  young 


22  NAOMI. 

girl,  for  the  exaggerated  stories  of  the  barbarity 
of  the  country  had  reached  her  ears,  and  the 
New  World  was  indeed  to  Naomi  a  strange  and 
savage  place.  She  had  heard  of  horrible  Indian 
warfare,  of  scalping  and  burning,  of  the  terrible 
severity  of  the  climate,  of  snow-drifts  above  the 
roofs  of  the  houses,  of  the  ice-bound  coast,  and 
wine  frozen  solid  in  the  cask.  She  had  read 
of  the  hardships  of  the  earliest  emigrants,  of 
tender  and  delicate  women  dying  destitute  of 
the  comforts  of  home,  of  infants  breathing  but 
a  few  hours  the  ice-filled  air  ;  and  as  the  vessel 
glided  upon  a  balmy  sea,  among  the  beautiful 
islands  of  the  bay,  then  filled  with  verdure, 
and  groves,  and  singing  birds,  her  wonder  and 
admiration  increased  beyond  measure,  and  she 
asked  the  captain  doubtingly,  "  Is  this  the  new, 
the  savage  world  ?  " 

As  they  drew  nearer  to  the  crescent  of  the 
little  town,  the  sun  had  set  behind  the  undu 
lating  summit  of  the  Trimountain,  leaving  a 
brilliant  sea  of  glory  in  the  tree-tops.  She 
could  now  distinctly  see  the  groups  of  people ; 
"  the  happy  boys  and  girls  sporting  up  and  doAvn 
the  streets,"  a  characteristic  feature  of  Boston 
that  it  has  ever  since  retained ;  the  general 
appearance  of  thrift  and  wealth ;  the  modest 
houses,  divided  from  each  other  by  orchards 


NAOMI.  23 

and  gardens  ;  the  narrow  and  winding  streets, 
ascending  here,  descending  there,  that  gave  an 
indescribably  picturesque  beauty  to  the  place  ; 
and,  lastly,  its  embracing  arms  of  water,  its  pro 
tecting  peninsulas  of  land,  intersecting  and  en 
circling  each  other.  "  And  this  earthly  para 
dise,"  she  thought,  "  and  my  mother  !  these  are 
to  be  my  home  "  ;  and,  overcome  with  surprise 
and  joy,  she  melted  into  tears. 

When  she  descended  from  the  vessel  to  the 
wharf,  she  found  the  carriage  already  mentioned 
waiting  for  her.  No  intrusive  curiosity,  no  pry 
ing  eyes,  followed  her  there.  It  was,  as  I  have 
said  before,  the  beginning  of  the  Sabbath,  and 
all  were  within  the  walls  of  their  houses.  Na 
omi,  as  she  rode  through  the  street,  saw  only 
the  deep  shadows  and  the  broad  masses  of 
moonlight,  brighter  she  thought  than  in  Eng 
land,  and  heard  only  the  deep  choruses  of  the 
insects  and  frogs,  till  the  door  of  her  new  home, 
the  door  of  her  step-father's  dwelling,  closed 
after  her. 


CHAPTER   III. 

"  Friends,  kindred,  comfort,  all  they  spurned, — 

Their  father's  hallowed  graves  ; 
And  to  a  world  of  darkness  turned, 

Beyond  a  world  of  waves."  —  SPRAGUE. 

"What  sought  they  thus  afar  ? 
Bright  jewels  of  the  mine  ? 
The  wealth  of  seas,  the  spoils  of  war  ? 

They  sought  a  faith's  pure  shrine."  —  HEMANS. 

PURITANISM  was,  as  those  who  embraced  it 
believed,  a  protest  of  right  against  wrong,  of 
good  against  evil,  of  heaven  against  hell ;  in 
many  it  was  a  true  heroism,  inspired  by  holy 
motives,  pursued  with  devoted  energy,  purified 
from  all  selfish  ends,  and  rewarded  with  the 
joys  of  conscience. 

The  views  and  motives  that  led  the  Pilgrims 
and  planters  to  these  New  England  shores  were 
as  various  and  as  widely  different  as  the  char 
acters  of  the  persons  who  composed  the  suc 
cessive  companies.  Winthrop  and  his  compan 
ions  were  as  true,  as  pure,  as  heroic  a  company 
as  ever  set  foot  upon  our  sterile  and  severe 
coast.  They  were  inspired  by  deep,  conscien 
tious,  but  yet  narrow  and  mistaken  conceptions 


NAOMI.  25 

of  religious  liberty.  They  wished  to  escape 
persecution  in  England,  but  no  sooner  did  the 
occasion  present  itself  than  they  became  per 
secutors  in  their  turn  ;  tolerance  for  their  own 
opinions  was  the  only  tolerance  admitted.  That 
tolerance  itself  implies  intolerance  was  an  idea 
which  had  never  dawned  upon  the  religious  mind 
of  the  period. 

Many  came  merely  to  enjoy  an  untrammelled 
worship,  —  to  be  rid  of  surplices,  and  what  were 
to  them  the  idle  ceremonies  of  formalism  and 
the  ritual.  A  very  large  number  came  to  this 
country  upon  commercial  speculations,  with  the 
hope  of  making  or  bettering  their  fortunes,  and 
yet  a  larger  number  with  a  union  of  purposes, 
of  which,  although  none  perhaps  were  of  an 
entirely  elevated  or  disinterested  character,  yet 
were  none  censurable  or  unworthy. 

Included  among  the  latter  class  was  the  mer 
chant  who  was  most  largely  interested  in  the 
ship  that  had  just  arrived,  and  whose  carnage 
had  been  waiting  upon  the  wharf  to  receive  a 
passenger  from  the  vessel.  The  reader  must  not 
suppose  that  a  carriage  was  at  this  time  a  fre 
quent  appendage  to  a  rich  man's  establishment. 
There  were  perhaps  half  a  dozen  in  the  whole 
country,  and  the  merchant  of  whom  we  speak 
was  as  able  as  any  one  to  maintain  this  luxury. 


26  NAOMI. 

Mr.  Aldersey,  to  whose  house  Naomi  had  been 
borne,  was  one  of  the  most  wealthy  merchants 
of  Boston,  although  not  one  of  the  company 
who  came  with  Winthrop.  At  the  time  of 
Winthrop's  embarkation,  he  was  living  in  Lon 
don,  and  reaping  a  fortune  from  one  of  the 
extensive  monopolies  common  at  that  period ; 
but  he  was  a  Puritan,  and  belonged  to  the 
patriot  party  that  opposed  all  monopolies.  He 
would  have  gladly  remained  in  the  enjoyment 
of  his  own,  by  a  connivance  in  which  he  should 
not  be  known.  It  was,  however,  discovered 
and  withdrawn,  and  he  came  to  hide  his  mor 
tification  in  the  New  World.  He  returned, 
however,  at  the  end  of  a  few  years,  and  married. 
His  wife,  whom  he  now  brought  with  him,  a 
lovely  and  excellent  woman,  had  large  connec 
tions  in  England  of  her  own  family  and  of  her 
first  husband's  (she  had  been  a  widow),  which 
made  the  rending  of  the  ties  to  the  mother 
country  most  difficult.  Naomi,  the  little  daugh 
ter  of  the  first  husband,  was  the  darling  of  many 
old  relatives,  who  set  their  hearts  and  their  faces 
against  the  proposal  of  bringing  the  little  girl 
to  the  New  World.  Like  Mrs.  Wilson,  the  part 
ner  of  the  reverend  gentleman  of  that  name, 
their  imaginations  exaggerated  the  dangers  of  the 
sea,  the  terrors  of  the  savages  and  monsters  that 


NAOMI.  27 

infested  the  land.  Mrs.  Aldersey  accompanied 
her  husband,  therefore,  with  a  divided  and  bleed 
ing  heart,  for  the  little  Naomi,  a  child  of  nine 
years  old,  must  be  left  behind. 

Mr.  Aldersey  had  come  to  the  country  rich 
in  capital,  and  his  business  had  been  eminently 
prosperous,  and  the  new  cares  and  new  duties 
of  a  new  country  had  seemed  to  suffice  for  the 
happiness  of  his  wife  ;  another  little  girl  had 
also  been  filling  in  part  the  place  of  the  little 
Naomi  in  the  mother's  heart.  In  part  only, 
for  the  mother's  heart  ever  yearned  for  the  child 
across  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic  ;  a  secret  and 
fond  hope  of  uniting  the  sisters  had  given  to 
the  younger  the  name  of  Ruth.  "  In  the  future," 
her  mother's  heart  whispered,  "  may  they  say 
thy  people  shall  *be  my  people  arid  thy  God 
my  God." 

The  mother  was  not  destined  to  behold  the 
union  of  her  children.  The  relatives  of  Naomi, 
especially  the  guardian  appointed  by  her  own 
father,  who  had  charge  of  her  fortune  (for  Na 
omi  was  an  heiress),  opposed  his  authority  to 
her  earnest  wish  to  visit  her  mother.  The 
young  girl  submitted,  but  with  the  firm  deter 
mination  that,  as  soon  as  a  few  successive  birth 
days  should  give  her  the  freedom  to  act  for  her 
self,  neither  the  will  of  man  nor  the  waves 


28  NAOMI. 

of  the  Atlantic  should  separate  her  from  her 
mother. 

She  was  now  nineteen,  —  two  more  years 
must  pass  before  her  wishes  could  be  fulfilled  ; 
but  the  mother's  health  was  failing,  and  her 
last  letter  melted  the  heart  of  the  obdurate,  but 
conscientious  guardian.  A  passage  for  Naomi, 
with  her  maid,  had  been  reluctantly  taken  in 
the  next  vessel  for  Boston,  —  the  vessel  that, 
after  a  long-protracted  passage,  we  have  seen  en 
tering  the  harbour. 

I  copy  the  last  letter  of  the  mother,  as  a 
specimen  of  the  epistolary  style  of  the  period  :  — 

"  My  dearly  beloved  daughter,  —  Ten  years 
have  now  past  since  God,  in  his  wise  but  un 
searchable  Providence,  separated  my  precious 
first-born  child  from  my  arms.  It  was  like  the 
dividing  asunder  of  soul  and  spirit,  of  the  joints 
and  marrow.  But  through  this  tribulation  I 
have  been  brought  to  a  more  humble  sense  of 
my  own  unworthiness ;  only  through  divine 
grace  could  my  rebellious  spirit  be  brought  to 
entire  submission,  and  only  through  this  chas 
tisement  to  the  patient  taking  up  of  my  daily 
cross.  Has  this  trial  had  its  blessed  influence 
upon  the  soul  of  my  precious  child,  so  that 
through  this  tribulation  we  may  be  prepared 
to  meet  and  rejoice  together  in  the  kingdom 
of  our  Father  ? 


NAOMI.  29 

"  Now,  my  dear  child,  sorrow  and  weakness 
weigheth  heavily  upon  my  life,  and  I  feel  that 
if  I  see  thee  not  before  I  go  home,  my  gray 
hairs  will  descend  with  sorrow  to  the  grave. 
Entreat  thy  guardian,  therefore,  to  give  me  the 
joy  to  embrace  thee  before  I  die. 

"  I  wish,  my  daughter,  to  commit  thy  little 
sister  to  thy  care.  Be  to  her  what  I  have  not 
been  able  to  be  to  thee,  after  the  full  measure 
of  my  boundless  love,  —  but  be  to  her  a  mother. 
Let  her  home  be  thy  home,  her  country  thy 
country,  and  may  a  mother's  humble  prayer 
cause  the  blessing  of  the  Almighty  to  rest  upon 
both  her  precious  children  !  " 

Before  this  letter  reached  the  hand  of  the 
daughter,  the  heart  of  the  mother,  perhaps  of 
all  human  hearts  that  where  dwells  the  purest 
flame  of  love,  had  ceased  to  beat  ;  it  rested  be 
neath  the  New  England  sod,  and  mingled  its 
dust  with  the  martyr  hearts  of  the  first  genera 
tion  of  Pilgrim  mothers.  The  Chapel  grave-yard 
is  one  of  the  most  hallowed  spots  in  the  coun 
try.  There  sleep  many  tender  women,  who 
left  the  halls  of  luxury  in  their  noble  English 
homes,  the  language  of  whose  souls  was, 
"  Whithersoever  your  fatal  destiny  shall  lead 
you,  either  by  the  furious  waves  of  the  great 
ocean,  or  by  the  manifold  and  horrible  dangers 


30  NAOMI. 

of  the  land,  I  will  surely  bear  you  company. 
There  can  no  peril  chance  to  me  so  terrible, 
nor  any  kind  of  death  so  cruel,  that  shall  not 
be  much  easier  for  me  to  abide  than  to  live 
separated  from  jhee." 

I  have  said  that  Mr.  Aldersey  did  not  exile 
himself  to  get  rid  of  the  hierarchy,  the  sur 
plice,  or  the  bishops  ;  he  came  because  he  could 
no  longer  enjoy  the  revenues  of  a  monopoly 
which  his  party  had  long  condemned,  and  his 
principles  had  barely  suffered  him  to  connive 
at.  He  was  already  rich,  and  the  commercial 
property  of  the  colony  under  the  favorable  re 
gard  of  Cromwell  had  enabled  him  to  double 
his  fortune  since  he  came  to  the  country. 

In  this  religious  community  men  lived  ap 
parently  above  the  world.  Religion  was  lord 
of  their  life.  To  attain  any  degree  of  consid 
eration,  it  was  as  requisite  to  be  religious  as  it 
is  now  to  be  honest.  Mr.  Aldersey  had  joined 
the  Boston  church  the  first  Sabbath  after  his 
arrival  ;  he  was  a  zealous  church-member,  an 
Assistant  of  the  General  Court,  a  magistrate,  a 
keen  detecter  of  heresy  in  opinion,  and  of  lat- 
itudinarianism  in  practice  ;  liberality  of  judg 
ment  in  one  or  the  other,  with  respect  to  others, 
was  a  thing  that  had  never  dawned  upon  his 
mind,  yet  he  exempted  himself  from  any  par- 


NAOMI.  31 

ticular  strictness  of  principle  or  practice.  His 
great  Bible  lay  open  before  him  on  Sunday, 
and  upon  its  very  leaves  he  wrote  his  com 
mercial  letters.  He  had  obtained  secretly,  this 
very  Saturday  night,  news  and  information  of 
the  state  of  the  market  in  England,  which 
would  be  imparted  to  others  only  on  Monday 
morning,  and  which  enabled  him  to  add  sorne 
thousands  to  his  property.  Yet  his  family  de 
votions  had  never  been  apparently  more  fervent 
than  upon  this  very  evening,  when  his  thoughts 
were  far  away,  busied  with  commercial  spec 
ulations.  He  was  not,  however,  an  unmitigated 
hypocrite.  He  had  always  been  prosperous, 
and  deceived  himself  into  the  conviction,  that 
it  was  the  special  blessing  of  God  that  crowned 
all  his  inferior  speculations  and  his  fraudulent 
gains.  Such  persons  are  not  wholly  without 
excuse.  The  homage  that  even  the  most  up 
right  pay  to  success,  to  worldly  prosperity ;  the 
kind  of  acquiescence  that  even  the  best  accord 
to  prosperous  selfishness;  the  flattering  antic 
ipated  epitaph,  written  upon  the  countenances 
of  all  those  who  approach  the  man  known  to 
have  the  most  avaricious  appetites,  but  attended 
with  ostentatious  charities,  —  all  these  deceive 
him.  They  know  he  is  the  toad  ugly  and 
venomous,  but  they  are  dazzled  by  the  jewel 


32  NAOMI. 

borne  on  his  front.  All  this  makes  the  true 
heart,  the  discerning  spirit,  weep,  and  fear  that 
the  great  day  of  justice  is  yet  afar  off. 

The  principles  of  Christian  love,  the  beati 
tudes,  can  never  influence  society  while  those 
mean  and  grovelling  propensities  are  honored 
and  flattered  because  wealth  and  luxury  attend 
them.  While  the  man  whose  heart  is,  moulded 
from  the  down-trodden  mire,  where  serpents 
have  hissed,  and  swine  have  rooted,  —  whose  in 
tellect,  of  coarse  flint,  is  only  capable  of  being 
struck  into  light  by  the  hope  of  gain,  —  gilded 
with  the  trappings  of  wealth,  is  placed  on  high 
to  receive  the  homage  of  the  world,  while  the 
worshipper  of  truth,  the  man  of  pure  unsullied 
conscience,  is  thrust  aside,  or  bears  the  obloquy 
of  public  opinion,  —  such  society,  whether  it  be 
Puritan  or  orthodox,  can  never  be  Christian. 

Mr.  Aldersey  was  not  ostentatious  in  his  house 
or  his  furniture  ;  he  lived,  indeed,  rather  be 
neath  than  above  his  means  ;  his  income  con 
stantly  accumulated.  Ostentation  was  not  then 
shown  in  the  pride  of  luxurious  living.  Boston 
has  retained  the  stamp  that  was  given  it  in  the 
first  century.  Its  munificence  is  displayed  at 
this  very  day,  as  it  was  thirty  years  after  the 
arrival  of  the  Arbella,  in  its  patriotic  and  relig 
ious  charities,  rather  than  in  luxurious  living. 


NAOMI.  33 

We  are  surprised  in  reading  John  Dunton's 
account  of  his  visit  to  Boston  about  this  period, 
and  also  the  old  records  of  probate-offices,  to 
find  so  much  of  the  luxury  of  furniture  and  the' 
splendor  of  their  old  homes  mingled  with  the 
rough  structures  and  the  numerous  deficiencies 
of  accommodation  in  the  New  World.  Mr. 
Aldersey's  house  was  on  the  south  side  of  what 
is  now  Washington  Street,  and  was  entered 
through  a  garden  in  front  j  as  the  gable  end  of 
the  dwelling  was  towards  the  street,  it  enjoyed 
at  the  same  time  the  advantages  of  retirement 
and  publicity.  The  garden,  filled  principally 
with  vegetables,  was  divided  from  the  house  by 
a  small  court  paved  with  smooth  pebbles  from 
the  sea-beach,  and  the  bank  of  green  before  the 
front  door  was  filled  with  English  rose-bushes, 
carefully  imported  from  the  mother  country. 
The  spacious  and  most  substantial  dwelling  was 
rough  on  the  outside,  being  built  of  large  split 
logs,  the  spaces  boarded  with  unplaned  boards ; 
the  whole,  being  unpainted,  had  attained  a  rich 
dark  wood-color.  It  was  two  stories  high,  with 
a  very  deep  overhanging  roof,  with  two  gables 
on  each  surface,  forming  what  is  called  the 
Elizabethan  style  of  architecture.  The  sharp 
gables  admitted  each  a  window.  The  house 
was  nearly  square,  but,  according  to  the  fashion 
3 


34  NAOMI. 

of  the  time,  each  story  projected  more  than  half 
a  foot  over  the  one  beneath.  The  front  ad 
mitted  four  large  windows,  two  in  each  story, 
the  lower  ones  projecting,  or  what  are  now  call 
ed  Elizabethan ;  these  were  formed  of  lozenge- 
shaped  glass  set  in  lead,  the  upper  sash  being 
whole  and  immovable,  while  the  lower  opened 
in  the  centre  upon  hinges,  like  what  are  called 
French  windows  at  the  present  day.  They 
were  protected  by  wooden  shutters  on  the  out 
side,  each  shutter  being  secured  by  a  wood 
en  bar. 

The  interior  of  this  house  presented  an  aspect 
far  more  agreeable  and  polished  than  the  rough 
ness  of  the  outside  had  promised.  The  front 
door  opened  into  a  large  hall,  having  a  wide 
and  handsome  staircase  on  the  right  hand,  and 
opposite  the  door  of  entrance  a  window  opening 
like  a  door  to  the  ground.  This  gave  admittance 
at  once  into  a  deeply  shaded  orchard,  whose 
trees  were  well  grown  and  now  loaded  with 
fruit,  among  which  were  many  of  those  trees 
since  called  the  Endicott  pear.  In  the  spring 
and  summer,  when  both  doors  stood  open  and 
the  trees  were  white  with  blossoms,  a  delicious 
breeze,  filled  with  fragrance,  passed  through  the 
house.  A  lantern  was  suspended  from  the 
centre  of  this  hall,  and  a  large  clock,  with  a 


NAOMI.  35 

face  of  brass,  ticked  the  silent  moments,  and 
chimed  the  hours  through  the  long,  long  sum 
mer's  day.  The  room  upon  the  left,  looking 
towards  the  street,  was  furnished  "  with  look 
ing-glasses,  a  rich  Turkey  carpet,  window-cur 
tains,  and  valences  of  brocade,  and  enormous 
brass  andirons  in  a  fireplace  that  would  hold  a 
cord  of  wood."  But  what  distinguished  this 
room  above  many  others  in  the  colony  were  the 
hangings  of  rich  cloth,  by  their  raised  figures, 
resembling  tapestry,  that  covered  the  walls,  and 
which  the  merchant  had  imported  from  Holland. 
Upon  the  right  of  the  hall  was  a  smaller  room, 
called  the  merchant's  office  or  study,  which  in 
winter,  on  account  of  its  warmth,  was  often 
used  as  the  family  room.  The  chambers  were 
furnished  with  every  article  of  comfort  known 
at  that  period,  and  the  house  was  completely 
stocked  with  plate,  with  tankards  and  wine- 
cups,  with  pewter,  copper,  iron,  and  wooden 
utensils  for  the  kitchen.  It  must  be  remem 
bered  that  much  of  this  luxury  was  not  com 
mon  in  the  colony,  but  was  brought  from  the 
house  of  the  merchant  in  London.  In  addi 
tion  to  this,  for  the  period,  elegant  and  lux 
urious  dwelling,  Mr.  Aldersey  owned  a  grazing 
farm,  with  large  droves  of  cattle,  at  Muddy 
Brook,  and  a  small  island  in  the  bay,  that  kept 


36  NAOMI. 

his  enormous  chimneys  glowing  with  heat  during 
the  long  winters. 

Material  well-being  was  not  the  first  aim  of 
our  fathers.  Mr.  Aldersey  was  more  conspic 
uous  for  his  spiritual  than  for  his  worldly 
riches,  —  his  outside  demeanour  of  sanctification, 
his  countenance,  that  frowned  upon  the  ungodly, 
his  apparently  holy  walk  and  conversation,  the 
expression  upon  his  brow,  that  ever  said,  even 
without  audible  words,  to  the  weak  in  virtue, 
to  those  who  owned  human  infirmities,  even  to 
the  humble  penitent,  "  There  is  between  us  an 
immeasurable  gulf,  — -  stand  thou  aside,  I  am  ho 
lier  than  thou."  But  to  the  elders  and  the  min 
isters,  Mr.  Aldersey's  manner  was  humble  and 
apologetic.  He  seemed  ever  to  be  saying,  "  I 
cannot  help  it  that  I  am  so  much  better  than 
you.  I  would,  if  it  were  possible,  adopt  some 
few  infirmities  so  as  to  keep  my  honored  friends 
in  countenance." 

The  step-father  of  Naomi,  of  whose  char 
acter  we  have  endeavoured  to  give  the  reader 
some  notion,  was  small  in  person,  not  tall,  and 
extremely  thin,  but  muscular  and  strong.  His 
cold  blue  eye  shone  beneath  a  full  and  bushy 
brow.  His  hair,  which  was  thin  and  grayish, 
had,  since  the  return  of  the  king,  been  replaced 
by  a  wig  of  orthodox  proportions.  Mr.  Alder- 


NAOMI.  37 

sey  bore  in  his  physiognomy  undoubted  marks 
of  a  keen  intellect.  His  riches,  his  bearing, 
his  standing  in  the  church,  altogether  chal 
lenged  universal  deference.  One  might  say 
he  governed  those  who  lived  with  him  by 
his  faults  ;  it  would  not  be  just  to  say  so  ;  it 
was  rather  by  a  cold  regard  to  expediency,  that 
ever  checked  the  flow  of  feeling,  and  made 
others  ashamed  of  enthusiasm,  while  his  formi 
dable  array  of  virtues  made  them  feel  them 
selves  less  than  nothing  in  his  presence. 

Such  was  the  house  and  such  the  guardian 
to  whom  Naomi,  who  might  yet  be  called  a 
child,  as  she  was  under  twenty,  bringing  with 
her  only  a  female  attendant,  was  committed 
in  this  her  new  and  strange  home. 

Completely  overwhelmed  as  she  was  by  the 
stunning  news  of  the  loss  of  her  mother,  that 
met  her  upon  her  arrival,  exhausted  nature  at 
length  sank  overpowered  into  the  arms  of  that 
precious  friend  of  sorrow,  that  blessed  attend 
ant  of  darkness  and  stillness,  —  sleep.  While 
she  sleeps,  we  will  endeavour  to  make  the  reader 
acquainted  with  her  previous  history. 


CHAPTER   IY. 

"A  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned, 
To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command  J 
And  yet  a  spirit  still  and  bright, 
With  something  of  an  angel's  light." 

BEAUTY  is  spiritual ;  the  most  perfect  features 
are  unmeaning  until  irradiated  by  the  light  of 
the  soul, — like  those  vases  which  are  opaque 
and  indistinct  till  the  light  shines  from  within, 
when  they  reveal  forms  of  exquisite  beauty. 
Naomi,  when  sleeping,  possessed  that  species  of 
beauty  that  had  long  informed  her  features.  They 
were  now  calm  and  motionless,  like  the  marble 
statue  that  will  never  awake  to  life.  A  noble 
breadth  of  forehead,  smooth  and  pale,  like  the  leaf 
of  the  camellia,  was  surrounded  by  soft  brown 
hair,  that  had  never  been  festooned  or  curled,  but 
lay  in  wavy  folds  upon  the  pure  marble.  Her 
eyes,  now  veiled  by  their  lids,  were  of  a  deep 
gray,  or  blue,  or  even  hazel,  according  as  the 
light  was  reflected  from  them  ;  they  were  not 
brilliant  and  sparkling,  but  serious,  thoughtful, 
sometimes  sad,  and  when  fixed  earnestly  upon 
one,  a  mild  light  seemed  burning  within  them. 


NAOMI.  39 

Her  complexion  was  pale,  but  not  unhealthy ; 
and  the  soft  but  serious  mouth  disclosed  perfect 
teeth.  No  one  on  first  looking  at  Naomi  would 
have  thought  of  her  beauty.  The  regularity 
of  her  features  was  lost  in  something  more 
precious ;  — 

"  A  sweet,  attractive  kind  of  grace, 
A  full  assurance  given  by  looks ; 
Continual  comfort  in  her  face, 

The  lineaments  of  Gospel  books." 

Yes,  it  was  the  full  assurance  of  perfect  truth 
beneath  those  transparent  features  that  made 
the  charm  of  her  presence.  It  is  a  common  ex 
pression  "as  true  as  the  Gospel";  in  that  sense 
the  word  is  used  above,  and  we  may  add  that 
in  Naomi  it  was  a  true  gospel  of  love  that 
comforted  all  who  looked  upon  her. 

There  had  been  few  incidents  in  the  life  of 
Naomi.  Her  character  had  not  been  formed  by 
external  circumstances.  Hers  was  one  of  those 
pure  poetical  souls,  that  had  as  yet  found  no 
manifestation.  They  seem  made  for  an  age 
of  perfection  that  does  not  yet  exist.  Painting 
has  succeeded  in  representing  characters  of  this 
kind,  in  the  early  Madonnas  of  the  Catholic 
church  ;  pure  types  of  nature  in  humble  life, 
exalted,  because  they  have  been  chosen.  Poetry 
has  spoilt,  by  endeavouring  to  idealize  them, 


40  NAOMI. 

forgetting  that  their   essence  consists  in  being 
simply  what  they  are,  —  divine.* 

The  fact  of  Naomi's  early  orphanhood,  the 
solitude  of  the  heart  in  which  she  had  been 
left  at  the  most  important  period  of  her  growth, 
was  perhaps  the  cause  that  spiritual  conscious 
ness  instead  of  external  interests  pervaded  her 
whole  character.  She  had  never  known  her 
father,  but  to  her  mother's  love  and  influence 
her  young  heart  had  been  completely  open. 
The  early  separation  from  her  mother  had  been 
the  misfortune  of  her  life,  for  although  left  with 
the  kindest  relatives,  the  tendrils  of  the  young 
heart,  thus  torn  away  from  their  early  support, 
could  not  entwine  themselves  again,  but  floated 
loose  upon  the  air.  Solitude  and  want  of  com 
panionship,  of  the  interchange  of  thought  upon 
the  most  interesting  subjects,  had  formed  in  the 
little  Naomi  habits  of  reserve  and  of  secret 
musings  in  her  solitary  hours,  when  her  pillow 
would  be  wetted  with  the  tears  wrung  from 
the  lonely  heart  that  longed  to  love.  Not  that 
she  had  not  objects  of  love.  She  lived  with 
indulgent  friends,  and  in  the  truest  domestic 
harmony  ;  but  hers  was  a  heart  that  could  only 
surrender  to  tenderness,  and  to  the  most  inti- 

*  This  thought  is  derived  from  a  foreign  writer. 


NAOMI.  41 

mate  sympathy.  To  her  absent  mother  she 
poured  out  in  her  letters  the  riches  of  an  afflu 
ent,  of  an  exquisitely  beautiful  nature,  already 
overflowing  with  love  and  enthusiasm.  But 
the  too  fearful  mother,  imagining  in  those  divine 
gifts  an  exaggerated  sensibility,  and  fearing  the 
evils  and  sorrows  involved  in  unrestrained,  un 
guarded  affections,  did  not  respond  to  the  ardent 
heart-warm  expressions  of  her  daughter.  Her 
letters  in  return  inculcated  the  cold  and  guarded 
precepts  of  a  more  mature,  even  a  more  worldly 
experience,  throwing  over  the  exuberant  blos 
soms  of  this  young  spring  of  feeling  the  wet 
blanket  of  an  April  snow,  blighting  for  one 
season  the  expanding  flower,  but  strengthening 
and  enriching  the  plant  whose  deep  roots  cen 
tred  in  the  rich  soil  of  the  heart. 

The  solitude  in  which  Naomi  lived  might 
have  made  her  a  superstitious  devotee,  or  a 
dreaming  enthusiast ;  but  fortunately  nature  had 
endowed  her  with  a  vigorous  reason,  a  strong 
good-sense,  that  prevented  her  from  becoming 
either  the  one  or  the  other.  But  her  young 
heart  thirsted  for  excellence  j  she  yearned  for 
an  unknown,  but  a  possible,  goodness,  which 
she  found  not  around  her,  —  neither  in  nature 
nor  in  the  world,  neither  in  the  church  nor  in 
society,  neither  in  sermons  nor  in  books.  The 


42  NAOMI. 

conception  of  this  ideal  goodness  was  ever  be 
fore  her ;  but  she  found  it  not  in  herself,  and 
wept  that  she  was  never  nearer  to  it  than  to 
the  rainbow  in  the  horizon.  Dwelling  as  Na-. 
omi  did  upon  the  things  of  her  own  conscious 
ness,  she  was  in  danger  of  sinking  into  mel 
ancholy,  had  she  not  been  arrested  by  a  cir 
cumstance  which  we  shall  soon  mention. 

The  belief  that  each  individual  soul  receives 
light  immediately  from  God  himself  has  been 
the  spontaneous  faith  of  many  of  the  purest 
minds  throughout  the  world.  Light  seems  to 
descend  into  such  minds  in  periods  of  darkness, 
and  in  the  midst  of  turbulence  and  oppression. 
Women,  as  well  as  the  other  sex,  pass  through 
deep  and  earnest  struggles  after  truth.  They 
also  wrestle  with  the  angel,  and  are  sometimes 
victorious.  Their  natural  timidity,  forbidding 
them  to  publish  their  thoughts  to  the  world, 
prevents  their  struggles  and  their  conquests  from 
being  known ;  but  in  deep  retirement,  many 
live  and  die  in  a  pure  and  holy  faith,  feeling 
that  God  is  ever  near  their  souls,  giving  them 
bread  to  eat  that  the  world  knoweth  not  of. 

Twenty  years  before  this  time  Mrs.  Hutch- 
inson  had  broken  through  the  restraints  of  sex, 
and  exhibited  in  this  country  her  masculine  and 
independent  spirit.  Her  inquiring  mind  and  dis- 


NAOMI.  43 

interested  benevolence  created  for  her  a  strong 
party,  and  moved  in  her  favor  the  most  candid 
minds  in  the  colony  ;  and  had  she  not  asserted 
a  claim  to  prophetic  inspiration,  the  Puritan 
saint,  Cotton,  himself  would  have  been  her  dis 
ciple.  As  we  now  read  her  history,  we  cannot 
but  acknowledge  that  she  was  before  the  age 
in  intellectual  insight ;  but  we  feel  also  the 
taint  of  all  imperfect  natures,  and  are  obliged 
to  admit  that  her  martyrdom  (for  it  was  no 
less)  was  as  much  the  fruit  of  her  inordinate 
self-esteem  as  of  her  intellectual  superiority 
over  others.  Her  blameless  life,  perhaps,  left 
her  conscience  free  from  reproach  ;  but  when, 
from  the  savage  solitude  of  her  exile,  she  looked 
back  upon  her  career,  she  must  have  feared  that 
the  slimy  trail  of  spiritual  pride  had  sullied  the 
white  robes  of  her  martyrdom. 

Naomi  was  too  truly  a  woman,  and  from  in 
stinctive  delicacy  knew  too  well  the  position 
she  held,  ever  to  have  made  the  struggles  of 
her  soul  the  theme  of  public  discussion  ;  but 
she  sank  into  a  deep  melancholy,  for  which  the 
mistaken  kindness  of  her  friends,  ignorant  of 
the  cause  of  the  grief  that  was  consuming  her 
young  life,  prescribed  change  of  scene,  the 
gayeties  of  her  age,  and  the  amusements  that 
her  rank  in  life  permitted  her  to  enjoy.  They 


44  NAOMI. 

had  Royalist  friends  in  London,  and  as  it  was 
just  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second's  return, 
they  took  her  to  London,  to  be  a  spectator  at 
least,  if  not  a  participator,  of  the  rejoicings  and 
festivities  of  the  occasion.  She  saw  the  cel 
ebrated  characters  of  the  age,  if  not  very  near, 
yet  near  enough  to  observe  their  witty  but 
profligate  manners,  and  that  they  turned  into 
pitiless  ridicule  every  noble  feeling,  and  every 
genuine  emotion  of  the  human  heart.  Her  del 
icate  beauty  attracted  much  attention  ;  amuse 
ments  and  parties  of  pleasure  were  pressed  upon 
her ;  even  more  than  one  alliance  was  proposed 
for  her,  by  the  not  too  affluent  friends  of  the 
king,  prompted,  perhaps,  as  much  by  her  reputed 
wealth  as  by  the  attraction  of  her  refined  and 
delicate  beauty. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  although  in  this 
noisy  and  riotous  London  Naomi  found  no 
solace  from  her  melancholy,  she  found  peace 
for  her  soul. 

The  nurse  who  had  attended  Naomi  in  her 
infancy  had  been  placed  by  her  mother  as  the 
personal  attendant  of  her  daughter,  and  had 
never  been  separated  from  her.  Naomi  loved 
her,  as  children  do  love  those  whose  faces  have 
never  worn  for  them  any  but  the  kindest  ex 
pression  of  love  and  protection.  The  nurse 


NAOMI.  45 

went  with  her  to  London  ;  while  there,  through 
her  family  connections,  for  she  was  born  in  the 
city,  she  became  acquainted  with  the  followers 
of  George  Fox,  and  was  soon  a  zealous  disciple, 
deeply  infected  with  the  principles  of  the  Quak 
ers.  The  confidence  subsisting  between  Naomi 
and  her  nurse  permitted  the  most  familiar  and 
intimate  communication,  and  the  words  of  pow 
er  that  George  Fox  himself  uttered  were  re 
peated  to  her  in  the  privacy  and  retirement  of 
her  own  bed-room.  The  simplicity  of  his  doc 
trine  presented  only  what  the  humblest  mind 
could  comprehend,  and  yet  its  sublimity  could 
fill  the  most  expanded  soul.  "  The  inward 
light,  the  voice  of  God  in  the  soul."  Naomi 
listened  to  these  simple  words,  and  they  poured 
a  flood  of  light  into  her  mind.  She  had  been 
sitting  in  darkness,  when  as  by  a  touch,  as  in  a 
theatre,  the  whole  of  her  being  was  flooded 
with  light.  She  had  been  too  long  wander 
ing  alone  in  darkness.  "  She  had  ascended  in 
thought  to  heaven,  she  had  penetrated  the 
depths  of  hell,  she  had  gone  to  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth,  seeking  with  prayers  and 
tears  after  the  truth,  but  these  simple  words, 
vibrating  at  the  right  moment  upon  her  ears, 
had  been  to  her  the  firmest  conviction  that  it 
was  within  her  own  soul.  Peace  entered  with 


46  NAOMI. 

God  into  his  purest  sanctuary,  a  humble  arid  sin 
cere  heart." 

As  soon  as  the  doctrines  of  the  Quakers  were 
explained  more  fully,  Naomi  found  they  were 
what  had  long  been  forming  in  her  own  mind. 
She  needed  only  the  word,  and  the  enigma  was 
solved ;  she  had  found  the  key-note,  and  her 
whole  soul  was  harmony  ;  the  spark  had  been 
applied,  and  her  whole  mind  was  light. 

After  the  account  Margaret  had  given  her, 
Naomi  consented,  nay,  she  was  eager,  to  accom 
pany  her  to  one  of  the  meetings  of  the  Quak 
ers.  It  was  the  afternoon  of  a  November  day, 
and  the  place  of  meeting  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Charing  Cross.  Long  before  they  reached 
the  place,  Naomi  and  her  attendant,  both  wrap 
ped  in  close  hoods  and  cloaks,  became  involved 
in  the  dense  crowd  of  persons  all  pressing  the 
same  way,  and  for  the  same  purpose.  George 
Fox,  at  this  time,  while  in  London,  drew  im 
mense  crowds  to  hear  him.  The  afternoon  was 
extremely  dark,  and  this,  added  to  the  habitual 
fog  of  the  city,  made  it  impossible  to  distinguish 
one  countenance  from  another.  Naomi,  alarmed, 
pressed  closer  and  closer  to  Margaret,  but  what 
at  first  excited  her  fears  was  in  fact  her  pro 
tection.  No  one  saw  her  fair,  pale  face,  and  the 
contrast  her  appearance  would  have  presented 


NAOMI.  47 

to  many  in  the  throng.  The  two  young  women 
were  carried  along  by  the  pressure  from  behind, 
and  taken  several  times  off  their  feet,  till  they 
were  landed  in  a  large  upper  chamber,  lighted, 
and  furnished  with  plain  deal  seats.  A  kind 
of  reading-desk  was  placed  on  one  side,  upon 
which  was  laid  a  large  Bible. 

The  room  was  instantly  filled  to  overflowing ; 
every  inch  of  standing  room  upon  the  floor  was 
occupied,  and  the  window-sills  filled  with  those 
who  had  the  temerity  to  venture  upon  so  in 
secure  a  foothold.  When  Naomi  looked  around, 
she  saw  that  the  audience  was  composed  of  the 
middling  class  of  persons  ;  many  with  close-cut 
hair  and  steeple  hats,  and  a  sprinkling  here  and 
there  of  velvet  cloaks  and  curled  wigs ;  although 
at  this  very  time  the  Protector's  family,  and 
even  his  daughters,  attended  in  disguise  upon 
the  preaching  of  George  Fox.  They  waited  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  and  then,  when  he  entered, 
every  sound  was  hushed,  and  every  eye  turned 
toward  him.  Naomi  saw  a  tall,  large,  and  very 
remarkable  person  enter.  His  face  was  comely, 
with  close-cut  brown  hair,  covered,  however, 
with  a  broad-rimmed  hat,  which  he  did  not 
remove  from  his  head.  The  striking  peculiarity 
of  his  appearance  was  occasioned  by  a  complete 
suit  of  untanned  leather,  not  well  fitting,  nor 


48  NAOMI. 

made  by  a  very  skilful  tailor.  His  whole  ex 
pression  and  bearing  was  gentle,  heart-soothing, 
inspiring  confidence,  and  composing  the  feelings 
to  respect  and  love. 

He  sat  nearly  half  an  hour  in  silence,  and 
the  silence  of  the  whole  assembly  was  so  in 
tense,  that  Naomi  felt  oppressed  by  it.  But 
George  Fox  himself,  as  he  sat  there  collecting 
his  soul  in  inward  quietness,  was  the  absorbing 
object  of  interest.  It  is  remarkable  how  his 
personal  character  has  been  impressed  upon  the 
whole  sect  of  his  followers,  and  is  not  yet, 
perhaps,  effaced  from  them  as  a  peculiar  people. 

The  silence  was  at  length  broken  by  the 
slow,  calm  accents  of  Fox  in  prayer.  Prayer 
was  one,  perhaps  the  most  remarkable,  of  his 
gifts,  —  the  weight,  as  it  were,  of  his  inward 
spirit.  The  fewness,  but  the  complete  fulness, 
of  his  words  of  power  reached  every  heart  in 
that  assembly,  filling  them  either  with  admi 
ration,  or  with  contrition  ;  with  consolation,  or 
with  hope  and  love.  He  was  like  one  who 
had  been  dwelling  near  to  the  source  of  per 
fection,  wisdom,  and  love,  and  brought,  as  it 
were,  the  spirit  and  the  language  of  that  higher 
world  to  spread  abroad  in  this.  It  was,  when 
he  finished,  as  though  to  every  one  of  that  as 
sembly  he  had  brought  a  gift ;  as  though  he 


NAOMI.  49 

had  laid  a  rose  in  every  hand,  or  a  wreath  upon      * 
every  brow.     Naomi  felt  as  though  she  had  re 
ceived  a  jewel  of  inestimable  price,  —  that  pre-    ' 
cious  white  stone  of  the  Scriptures,  "  on  which 
a  name  is  written  that  no  man  knoweth  save  he 
that  receiveth  it." 

If  such  was  the  effect  of  the  prayer,  how 
much  more  completely  was  this  precious  doc 
trine  confirmed  to  her  by  the  exhortation  that  fol 
lowed  the  prayer,  in  which  the  precious  doctrine 
of  the  inward  light,  the  perceptible  guidance  of  ]/ 
the  Holy  Spirit,  the  light  that  lighteth  every  man 
that  cometh  into  the  world,  was  made  logically 
clear,  and  rationally  true  to  her  perceptions,  and 
its  influence  to  comfort  and  sustain  for  ever  estab 
lished  over  her  mind. 

No  one  else  spake  that  evening. 

The  impression  that  George  Pox  made  upon 
Naomi's  mind  remained  unmixed  and  unim 
paired  by  any  other.  It  was  like  a  pure  cast 
from  a  beautiful  work  of  art,  of  which  the  I/ 
mould  had  been  broken.  She  did  not  attend 
another  Quaker  meeting. 

Naomi's  mind  having  been  prepared,  guarded, 
and  balanced  by  a  love  of  the  truth  she  had 
so  long  been  seeking,  she  could  not  enter  into 
the  extravagances  of  the  sect.  She  was  able 
to  separate  the  pure  inward  light  from  the  empty 
4 


50  NAOMI. 

and  noisy  outwardly  dazzling  coruscations.  It 
is  true,  she  wished  others  should  receive  the 
light  that  had  brought  peace  to  her  own  soul ; 
but,  as  it  was  within  each  soul,  she  thought  it 
should  be  the  still  small  voice  that  would  pen 
etrate  the  mind,  rather  than  the  excitement  of 
the  senses,  or  the  tumult  of  numbers.  She 
never  afterwards  attended  a  Quaker  meeting. 
She  had  no  sympathy  with  the  Ranters.  She 
condemned  all  those  vain  peculiarities  by  which 
the  Quakers  made  themselves  obnoxious  to  the 
civil  government.  The  folly  of  remaining  cov 
ered  in  the  presence  of  princes,  or  in  the  church, 
the  absurd  cut  of  their  garments,  the  quaint 
and  often  ludicrous  application  of  yea  and  nay, 
thee  and  thou,  seemed  to  her  transparent  per 
ception  of  truth  like  the  mint  and  anise  of  the 
Law,  while  the  all-essential  was  neglected. 

Naomi  returned  to  her  friends  in  the  country, 
outwardly  changed  only  in  the  serenity  that 
had  taken  the  place  of  the  drooping  and  melan 
choly  expression  of  her  countenance.  Within 
she  had  found  the  fountain  of  the  water  of  life, 
and  her  countenance  had  the  transparent  purity 
of  the  statue  that  is  placed  to  guard  its  serene 
depths. 

Immediately  after  her  return,  she  was  sum 
moned  to  see  once  more  the  mother,  who, 


NAOMI.  5 1 

although  so  widely  separated,  had  ever  been 
nearest  to  her  heart.  Her  guardian's  consent 
was  reluctantly  granted,  and  she  anticipated  the 
joy  of  making  her  mother  a  learner  and  a  con 
vert  of  the  new  truth  that  had  sprung  up  in  her 
soul.  But  there  was  a  drawback  to  her  hap 
piness  ;  she  must  leave  Margaret,  her  faithful 
nurse,  behind.  Her  step-father  had  written 
peremptorily  that  no  Quaker  or  fanatic  should 
be  permitted  to  accompany  his  step-daughter, 
or  to  set  foot  under  his  roof.  Indeed,  it  would 
have  been  the  greatest  imprudence,  for  it  was 
at  the  time  when  the  persecution  of  the  Quak 
ers  was  at  its  hottest  point.  Another  attendant, 
whose  orthodoxy  could  not  be  suspected,  was 
procured  for  Naomi  j  and  another  of  those  sep 
arations  took  place,  that  of  the  foster-mother 
from  her  nursling,  —  those  rendings  asunder, 
whose  pain  no  balsam  has  ever  yet  been  found 
to  heal. 

The  protracted  and  tempestuous  voyage, 
whose  termination  was  to  reveal  to  Naomi  that 
she  was  doubly  an  orphan,  had  served  to 
strengthen  and  deepen  her  convictions  of  the 
truth  of  her  new  faith.  When  the  little  bark 
was  lifted  upon  waves  that  seemed  like  moving 
mountains  uprooted  and  cast  into  the  tumul 
tuous  depth,  and  when  the  mystery  of  darkness 


52  NAOMI. 

brooded  over  the  wide  and  sullen  waters, — 
when  the  sun  rose  like  a  rayless  ball  of  light  out 
of  unfathomed  darkness,  and  when  the  moon 
spread  over  the  hushed  billows  a  mantle  of 
silver, — she  felt  that  the  soul  was  alone  with 
God ;  that  he  was  near  to  her,  and  that  it  needed 
no  intervention  of  church  or  priest,  or  even  the 
Bible,  to  make  her  feel  that  he  held  her,  and 
all  things,  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  At  such 
moments,  but  they  were  few  arid  far  between, 
the  habitual  loneliness  of  her  soul  was  gone  ; 
but  at  others  she  felt  overwhelmed  with  the 
thought  of  the  desolateness  she  should  feel  in 
the  New  World.  It  seemed  to  be  a  presentiment, 
a  foreshadowing,  of  the  loss  that  awaited  her 
when  she  should  set  her  foot  upon  the  unknown 
shore,  and  feel  that  no  heart  beat  there  in  unison 
with  her  own. 

This  presentiment  was  not  false  ;  when  Na 
omi  placed  her  foot  upon  the  wharf,  she  was 
informed  of  the  death  of  her  mother.  It  was 
no  time  to  give  way  to  the  natural  grief  of  the 
child's  heart ;  the  self-control  she  had  acquired 
from  her  new  principles  came  to  her  aid,  and 
she  entered  without  apparent  agitation  her  step 
father's  carriage,  which  was  waiting  for  her. 

It  was  the  time  to  test  the  efficacy  of  her 
new  principles,  and  though  Naomi  could  not 


NAOMI.  53 

prevent  the  silent  tears  from  streaming  down  her 
cheeks,  there  was  a  calm  and  humble  submis 
sion  in  her  heart.  It  had  been  her  fond  and 
earnest  wish  to  communicate  to  her  mother,  and 
to  make  her  taste  of  the  hidden  sources  of  her 
peace  and  joy ;  but  now  that  she,  the  only  per 
son  from  whom  she  could  hope  for  sympathy, 
was  gone,  she  determined  the  secret  of  her  new 
faith  should  remain  locked  within  her  own 
breast,  unless  she  should  be  called  upon  by  the 
voice  of  duty  to  disclose  what  would  place  her 
in  the  front  and  most  obnoxious  ranks  of  heresy. 
She  felt  no  call  for  martyrdom,  nor  even  for 
persecution.  In  her  secret  and  silent  worship 
of  the  heart,  she  could  offend  neither  church 
nor  state  ;  and  she  trusted,  however  Iceen  and 
observant  were  the  orthodox  principles  of  her 
step-father,  that  in  her  humble  silence  she  might 
escape  his  scrutiny. 

When  she  alighted  from  the  carriage,  and 
entered  her  step-father's  hall,  she  found  him 
waiting  to  receive  her.  He  held  out  his  hand 
coldly  and  stiffly,  but  with  an  expression  of 
extreme  suavity  upon  his  face.  Naomi  would 
have  taken  his  hand  between  both  hers,  and 
pressed  her  lips  upon  it.  He  was  her  mother's 
husband,  and  she  felt  almost  a  childlike  wish 
to  throw  herself  upon  his  breast,  and  claim  a 


54 


NAOMI. 


child's  place  in  his  heart.  But  the  moment  she 
felt  his  eyes  upon  her,  the  moment  she  looked 
upon  the  cold,  pale  blue  of  that  eye,  she  shrank, 
and  a  shiver  ran  through  her  frame.  Mr.  Alder- 
sey  seemed  to  perceive  this,  and  bowed  for 
mally  ;  he  immediately  brought  forward  the 
little  Ruth.  "  It  was  the  last  wish  of  your 
mother,"  he  said,  "  that  you  would  take  your 
little  sister  under  your  care,  and  make  up  to  her 
her  and  our  great  loss." 

Naomi  looked  up  into  his  face,  and  the  tears 
rushed  to  her  eyes,  while  a  vivid  blush  took  the 
place  of  the  pallor  that  had  overspread  her  feat 
ures.  "  I  was  about  to  ask,"  she  said,  "  your  per 
mission  to  return  immediately  to  my  guardian ; 
but,"  —  she  paused,  —  "if  any  wish  of  my 
mother's,  —  or  of  yours,  —  if  any  duty  laid  on 
me  by  her  should  prevent,"  —  and  she  paused 
again. 

It  was  no  part  of  Mr.  Aldersey's  plan  to  have 
Naomi  return  to  England.  It  had  long  been 
one  of  his  warmest  wishes  to  have  his  step 
daughter  in  New  England  at  the  time  she  at 
tained  her  majority.  He  wished  to  get  the 
management  of  her  modest  fortune  into  his  own 
hands.  "  He  could  double  it  for  her,"  he  said, 
and  perhaps  he  deceived  himself  with  this  flat 
tering  unction  laid  upon  his  soul,  although  it 


NAOMI.  55 

was  immediately  followed  with  the  secret  hope 
that  she  would  die  unmarried,  when  her  sister 
Ruth  or  himself  would  be  the  natural  heir  of 
her  wealth.  His  plan  was  formed.  Naomi  was 
to  be  treated  with  the  utmost  consideration  and 
external  respect ;  placed  at  the  head  of  his  table, 
his  guests  must  be  hers,  his  friends  her  friends ; 
their  interests  must  be  outwardly  the  same. 
Acting  upon  this  plan,  he  immediately  said,  — 
"  Ah,  no  !  she  must  lay  aside  the  wish  of  re 
turning  ;  was  there  not  the  last  earnest  request 
of  her  mother,  and,  though  perhaps  not  to  be 
mentioned  as  having  the  same  weight  of  influ 
ence  upon  her  actions,  was  there  not  his  own 
desire  to  place  her  in  the  only  proper  situation 
for  her  at  the  head  of  his  own  family?  and," 
he  added,  somewhat  stiffly,  "  her  wishes  should 
govern  his  household,  his  servants,  and,  in  all 
things  reasonable,  himself." 

The  contrast  presented  to  an  observer  by 
these  words  would  have  been  somewhat  ludi 
crous.  On  one  side,  Naomi,  meek  and  humble, 
upon  whose  whole  features  and  person  were 
impressed  the  most  feminine  gentleness  and  in 
the  presence  of  her  step-father  a  timidity  not 
exactly  natural,  but  which  arose  from  their  rela 
tion  to  each  other.  He  who  was  to  be  the 
slave  of  her  wishes  stood,  on  the  other  hand, 


56  NAOMI. 

the  very  impersonation  of  inflexible  obstinacy 
and  self-willed  determination.  Naomi  herself 
felt  the  truth,  and  shrank  again  with  a  feeling 
of  shivering  from  assuming  any  duties  in  a 
household  where  the  head  seemed  to  her  a  sort 
of  living  and  walking  tribunal,  a  secret  inquisi 
tion,  not  only  restraining,  and  driving  back  from 
the  lips  all  gushing  confidence  and  all  swelling 
enthusiasm,  but  even  exercising  a  power  upon 
the  secret,  almost  unformed  sentiments  of  the 
heart.  Did  the  thought  enter  her  mind  of  en 
deavouring  to  explore  the  stony  path  that  led 
to  his  confidence  ?  Her  mother  had  loved  him  ; 
but  Naomi  had  had  reason  to  think  that  her  poor 
mother's  hold  upon  that  cold  and  slimy  heart 
had  only  been  held  because  of  the  bleeding  of 
the  feet  upon  the  rough  and  thorny  way. 

She  was  inexpressibly  relieved,  then,  when 
the  door  opened  and  the  servants  entered,  pre 
ceded  by  one  who  seemed  to  be  among,  but 
much  superior  to,  them.  Naomi's  first  glance  at 
the  plain  and  homely  features  of  this  woman 
produced  a  revolution,  a  sort  of  free-breathing 
in  her  whole  being.  They  met  hers  with  such 
a  warm,  and  cordial,  and  truthful  glance,  that 
there  instantly  arose  within  her  a  confiding  and 
homelike  feeling  ;  the  home,  she  thought,  could 
not  be  altogether  intolerable,  where  a  face  that 


NAOMI.  57 

expressed  such  genuine  truth  of  character  was 
familiar.  This  person,  who  approached  and  held 
out  her  hand  with  so  simple  and  confiding  an 
expression,  was  Faith,  the  housekeeper  and  do 
mestic  guardian  of  the  family.  There  was,  at 
the  first  glance,  neither  beauty  nor  even  come 
liness  in  that  face,  but  the  noble  and  true  soul 
spake  through  those  plain  features.  Faith  had 
one  of  those  faces,  those  true  household  faces, 
that,  after  once  knowing,  we  can  never  bear  to 
miss.  They  are  like  the  cheerful  fireside,  the 
comfortable  arm-chair,  the  easy  slippers  ;  they 
cannot  be  dispensed  with.  But  in  Faith  the 
comforting  and  beautiful  qualities  of  the  soul 
had  so  usurped  and  banished  (to  those  who 
knew  her)  all  plainness  of  feature,  thjti  the  very 
features  had  the  soothing  influence  of  beauty. 
Her  friends  were  like  those  of  the  child,  that 
forms  its  standard  of  beauty  from  the  features  of 
its  first  kind  nurse,  be  they  dark  or  fair,  Grecian 
or  African. 

Naomi  soon  followed  Faith  to  the  chamber 
that  had  been  prepared  for  her.  It  was  the  best 
in  the  house,  and  furnished  with  what,  at  that 
time,  was  extreme  luxury.  A  large  and  elab 
orately  carved  bedstead  was  hung  with  heavy 
curtains  and  valances  of  brocade.  The  most 
curious  thing  in  the  room  was  the  covering  of 


58  NAOMI. 

this  bed,  a  specimen  of  the  industry  of  some 
Flemish  nuns,  which  in  the  course  of  commer 
cial  transactions  had  come  into  the  possession 
of  Mr.  Aldersey.  It  was  formed  of  pieces  of 
different  kinds  of  stuff,  not  one  of  which  was 
larger  than  a  die.  These  were  arranged  with 
exquisite  neatness  into  a  mosaic  of  a  variety 
of  patterns.  Flowers,  birds,  and  animals  were 
placed  in  natural  positions,  and  with  nearly  their 
natural  colors,  —  all  the  work  of  the  needle,  not 
in  simple  embroidery,  which  would  have  been 
comparatively  easy,  but  in  the  endless  arrange 
ment  of  little  scraps  of  every  shade  and  color. 

The  three  windows  of  the  room,  one  looking 
into  the  street,  the  others  into  the  orchard  and 
garden,  were  furnished  with  curtains  of  the  same 
material  as  those  of  the  bed.  The  chairs  were 
of  heavy,  carved  wood,  and  the  toilet  an  elabo 
rate  piece  of  furniture  of  the  time  of  Elizabeth. 
With  all  this  luxury,  however,  there  was  an 
absence  of  little  domestic  comforts  ;  the  leather- 
bottomed  chairs  stood  stiffly  against  the  wall, 
and  every  thing  seemed  as  though  it  were  not 
for  use  and  comfort,  but  for  ostentation  and 
show. 

The  moment  that  Naomi  found  herself  alone 
with  Faith,  she  uttered  but  one  word,  —  "  My 
mother,"  —  and  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears. 


NAOMI.  59 

The  tension  of  nerve,  the  self-restraint,  the  sort 
of  iron  pressure  upon  brain  and  heart,  that  she 
had  felt  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Aldersey,  gave 
way,  and  her  full  heart  found  relief  in  this  un 
controllable  flood  of  tears,  that  seemed  to  break 
down  and  overbear  all  boundaries  and  all  efforts 
at  restraint. 

It  would  have  been  natural  for  the  two  young 
women  to  have  thrown  themselves  into  each 
other's  arms  ;  for  Naomi  to  have  wept  upon  the 
breast  of  Faith ;  but  that  would  have  been  con 
trary  to  the  retinency  of  Puritan  manners,  that 
allowed  ho  effusion  or  abandonment  to  feeling. 
Faith,  however,  was  deeply  touched  with  sym 
pathy  for  the  poor  orphan.  She  took  her  in  her 
arms,  and  laid  her  upon  the  spacious  bed,  already 
prepared  with  fine  and  snowy  sheets,  loosened 
her  garments,  and,  with  a  tenderness  like  that 
of  a  mother,  paid  her  a  thousand  little  atten 
tions  intended  to  soothe,  while  she  attempted, 
not  by  words  of  comfort  or  advice,  to  check 
the  flood  of  tears,  relieving  the  burdened  heart 
of  Naomi.  At  length  Naomi  looked  up,  and, 
with  an  attempt  to  smile,  said,  "  You  mean 

that  I  shall  not  miss  my ,"  but  the  word 

mother  checked  her  again  and  she  burst  afresh 
into  tears. 

"  Do  not  try  to  speak,"  said  Faith,  gently ; 


60  NAOMI. 

"  weep,  yes,  weep  for  her,  —  she  deserved  these 
tears.  Ah !  we  can  have  but  one  mother,  and 
yours  was  one  of  a  thousand."  Gradually  she 
led  Naomi  to  ask  of  her  mother,  of  her  man 
ner  of  life,  of  her  habits,  her  occupations,  her 
fervent  piety,  her  religious  hopes,  her  sickness 
and  death,  till  Naomi  was  soothed  and  com 
forted,  and  her  tears  ceased  to  flow.  Faith, 
whose  loyalty  and  faithfulness  to  others  were 
as  immovable  as  the  rocky  foundations  of  the 
globe,  said  not  a  word  that  could  impair  Naomi's 
respect  for  her  step-father  ;  but  she  could  not 
but  feel  that  her  mother's  life  had  been  one  of 
sacrifices,  a  victim  to  the  petty  faults  of  him 
who  should  have  been  her  support.  Like  a 
tender  plant  upheld  by  the  circle  of  an  iron 
ring,  that  chafed  and  corroded  its  too  delicate 
texture  while  it  afforded  the  support  that  was 
needed. 

After  some  hours  of  conversation,  Naomi  fell 
asleep,  and  Faith  left  her  to  the  repose  she  so 
much  needed. 


CHAPTER   V. 

"  They  passed  the  sea,  to  keep 
Their  Sabbaths  in  the  eye  of  God  alone, 
In  his  wide  temple  of  the  wilderness." 

WHEN  Naomi  awoke,  she  recollected  it  was 
the  Sabbath.  The  sun  of  her  first  Sabbath  in 
the  New  World  rose  as  calm  and  as  beautiful 
as  it  could  have  risen  in  Eden.  No  sound  from 
the  street,  not  even  a  solitary  footfall,  disturbed 
the  deep  repose  of  the  morning.  She  rose 
early,  and,  drawing  aside  the  thick  brocade  cur 
tain  that  hung  across  the  diamond-p  aned  win 
dow,  looked  out  upon  her  new  abode.  If  the 
moonlight  had  been  sacred  and  touching,  upon 
the  broad  waters  and  beautiful  hills,  the  sun 
lighted  them  with  a  transparent  radiance  such 
as  she  had  rarely  seen  in  her  own  climate.  The 
azure  of  the  sky  was  cloudless,  free  from  mist 
or  fog,  the  water  was  of  a  more  deep  and  shaded 
blue,  and  the  woods  were  beginning  to  show  the 
varied  and  softened  tints  of  autumn.  As  the 
sun  rose  higher,  a  slight  mist  gathered  from  the 
valleys,  and  spread  like  a  half-transparent  veil 
over  the  landscape.  Many  hundreds  of  human 


62  NAOMI. 

beings  were  hushed  beneath,  not,  as  in  the  Old 
World,  resting,  overwearied  with  excessive  toil, 
or  preparing  for  the  joyous  fete  of  Sunday,  but 
in  prayer,  that  began  at  the  dawn,  feeding  their 
affections  with  the  spiritual  manna,  which  they 
believed  dispensed  to  their  souls  in  this  desert, 
as  the  true  manna  was  of  old  to  feed  the  Isra 
elites  in  their  weary  pilgrimage. 

As  Naomi  looked  abroad  upon  this  splendid 
but  almost  solitary  landscape,  her  imagination 
peopled  it  with  scenes  and  characters  accordant 
with  itself.  A  prospect  that  we  look  upon  for 
the  first  time,  and  which  we  expect  will  long 
lie  before  our  eyes,  leaves  almost  an  impression 
of  pain  on  the  mind.  It  seems  an  unwritten 
tablet ;  and  with  what  joys  or  sorrows  shall  we 
hereafter  fill  it  up  ?  These  placid  rivers,  these 
wooded  hills,  this  boundless  sea,  were  all  silent 
to  her.  She  could  associate  no  sorrows  nor 
difficulties  with  them  now,  in  their  radiant 
beauty,  such  as  she  had  heard  the  early  pilgrims 
had  suffered  here  ;  but  her  far-reaching  and  be 
nevolent  mind  longed  to  fill  them  with  happy 
people,  where  conscience  should  be  as  free  as 
these  flowing  rivers,  love  like  this  bending 
azure.  Her  young  heart  longed  to  find  sym 
pathy  and  companionship  in  such  a  state. 

Naomi    found   that   a   complete   silence    was 


NAOMI. 


63 


observed  in  this  patriarchal  house.  She  crept 
down  stairs  as  far  as  the  kitchen.  No  prepara 
tion  for  breakfast  or  dinner  was  allowed  by  our 
fathers  to  disturb  the  sacredness  of  the  Sab 
bath.  The  servants  sat  with  their  open  Bibles 
before  them,  while  large  logs  mouldered  in  the 
capacious  chimney.  Sambo,  an  old  negro,  the 
only  one  without  a  book,  for  he  could  not  read, 
had  crept  under  the  overhanging  chimney,  en 
joying  the  warmth  grateful  at  the  first  chill  of 
autumn.  They  rose  respectfully,  both  men  and 
women,  and  Sambo  said,  as  an  apology  to  a 
stranger  for  their  idleness,  —  "  Sabber  day,  Mis- 
see,  no  busy ;  no  work,  Sabber  day ;  all  read,  all 
pray,  all  preach,  Sabber  day." 

"  And  do  we  fast  as  well  as  pray,  Sambo,  on 
the  Sabbath  day  ?  " 

"  Breakfast  and  dinner  all  baked,"  he  said, 
and  pointed  to  the  oven,  where  the  dinner  and 
breakfast  had  been  prepared  before  the  setting 
of  the  sun  on  the  preceding  afternoon. 

I  cannot  attempt  to  describe  the  breakfast  of 
our  forefathers  ;  that  they  were  no  ascetics  the 
lading  of  their  vessels  proves.  Coffee  and  tea 
were  not  yet  common  in  Europe,  much  less  in 
the  New  World  ;  and,  among  all  but  laboring 
people,  the  beef  and  ale  breakfasts  of  an  earlier 
period  had  passed  away. 


64  NAOMI. 

Naomi  lingered  a  few  moments  to  converse 
with  Sambo,  who  was  to  her  a  completely  new 
specimen  of  the  domestic  servant.  The  African 
features  certainly  confuse,  if  they  do  not  over 
turn,  our  previous  theories  of  beauty.  Sambo 
was  a  short  and  very  small  negro,  whose  head 
was  wholly  disproportioned  to  the  diminutive 
body.  His  hands  and  feet  belonged  to  the  head 
rather  than  to  the  frail  arms ;  and  the  small  legs 
were  set  exactly  in  the  middle  of  the  foot,  thus 
resembling  those  instruments  called  scrapers,  in 
tended  to  remove  the  mud  from  gutters.  His 
complexion  was  intensely  black,  resembling  pol 
ished  ebony  ;  and  the  closely-curled,  wiry,  woolly 
hair  was  beginning  around  the  temples  and  fore 
head  to  turn  snow-white,  so  that  it  appeared 
crowned  with  a  wreath  of  white  paper,  or  of 
orange  blossoms,  placed  just  above  the  ears. 
His  thick  lips  disclosed  the  ivory  of  his  teeth, 
and  in  proportion  to  the  protuberance  of  the 
lips  was  the  robbery  they  had  committed  upon 
the  nose,  filching  from  it  its  just  and  beautiful 
proportions. 

I  have  said  above  that  the  African  features 
confuse  and  confound  all  our  previous  ideas  of 
beauty.  Sambo  was  the  very  soul  of  loyalty, 
chivalry,  fidelity,  affection.  His  love  was  bound 
less  ;  his  devotion  to  those  he  loved  went  to  the 


NAOMI.  65 

utmost  limits  of  his  strength  and  ingenuity ;  and 
yet  how  could  those  poor,  deformed  features 
express  these  noble  sentiments  ?  Even  the  full, 
expressive  eye  of  the  dog,  melting  as  it  often 
is,  is  denied  to  the  African,  as  we  see  him  in 
his  degraded  form.  Ah  !  the  time  will  come 
when  he  will  wear  the  form  of  a  seraph,  and 
put  on  his  robes  of  beauty. 

Sambo  was  a  captive,  he  could  hardly  be 
called  a  slave  ;  for  that  word  seems  to  imply 
a  feeling  of  degradation,  and  Sambo  had  no 
such  feeling.  Indeed,  the  Africans  belonging  to 
the  families  of  our  ancestors  in  Massachusetts 
held  a  peculiar,  almost  an  anomalous,  situation 
there.  No  slavery  was  ever  so  light  as  that 
in  many  old  families  in  Massachusetts,  and  no 
slaves  ever  so  indulged.  Their  place  resembled 
very  much  that  which  was  held  by  the  fool 
or  jester  in  the  households  of  princes  in  the 
ancient  feudal  times ;  they  were  allowed  pecu 
liar  license,  and  treated  with  great  familiarity,  — 
with  the  indulgence  of  children,  but,  alas  for 
them !  without  the  permanent  ties  that  hold  par 
ents  to  their  children ;  often  with  the  favor  of 
favorites,  —  perhaps  often,  also,  with  the  capri- 
ciousness  that  attends  favoritism. 

Sambo  was  the  only  member  of  Mr.   Alder- 
sey's  family  that  was  admitted  by  him  to  terms 
5 


66  NAOMI. 

of  perfect  equality,  because  he  knew  that  all 
his  imposing  qualities  were  lost  upon  poor 
Sambo.  He  could  neither  read  nor  write, 
scarcely  could  he  say  his  prayers,  and  any  ex 
cess  of  sanctimoniousness,  any  addition  of  spir 
itual  pride,  seemed  to  Sambo  only  low  spirits 
or  melancholy  in  his  master,  and  he  instantly 
strove,  with  childlike  gayety,  or  as  with  the 
gambols  of  a  faithful  animal,  to  dissipate  the 
work  of  supererogation. 

If  Sambo  had  been  asked  if  he  belonged  to 
Mr.  Aldersey,  he  would  have  been  puzzled  to 
answer.  Mr.  Aldersey,  according  to  his  views, 
belonged  much  more  to  him  than  he  to  Mr. 
Aldersey ;  and  the  feeling  of  proprietorship  ex 
tended  to  every  thing  else,  —  to  the  house  and 
the  furniture,  to  the  horses  and  domestic  ani 
mals  ;  even  the  human  inmates  were  his.  The 
innocent  vanity,  the  naive  pride,  with  which 
he  gloried  in  every  addition  to  the  family,  was 
amusingly  augmented  by  the  arrival  of  Naomi. 
Her  beauty  and  her  reputed  wealth  added  vast 
importance  to  poor  Sambo,  for  he  instantly 
adopted  and  took  Naomi  under  his  patronage, 
and  this  morning's  conversation  placed  the  seal 
upon  the  previously  contemplated  protection  on 
the  part  of  Sambo. 

Soon  after  breakfast  was  ended,  the  quiet  of 


NAOMI.  67 

the  little  town  was  broken  by  the  sound  of 
many  footsteps.  The  hour  for  hastening  to  the 
sanctuary  had  arrived,  —  that  hour  of  the  great 
solace,  of  the  dear  and  sacred  employment ; 
indeed  it  might  be  called  the  only  hour  of 
recreation  for  our  forefathers,  —  that  for  which 
they  endured  every  hardship,  and  made  every 
sacrifice.  This  was  the  weekly  period  when 
their  souls  were  to  be  deeply  moved  ;  excited  to 
fervor  of  devotion,  or  racked  with  deep  met 
aphysical  speculations ;  elevated  to  spiritual  ex 
ultation  as  they  looked  upon  themselves  as  the 
special  favorites  of  Heaven,  or  moved  to  intol 
erant  aversion  towards  those  who  differed  from 
them.  "  God  was  their  God  ;  they  were  the 
favorites  of  the  Most  High,  and  those  that  dif 
fered  from  them  had  no  business  there."  "  The 
world  was  wide  enough,"  they  said  j  "  let  them 
go  elsewhere,  and  worship  in  their  own  way." 

Those  who  are  disposed  to  blame  too  severely 
the  exclusive  and  persecuting  spirit  of  our  fore 
fathers  should  recollect  with  what  labors  and 
sacrifices  of  wealth  and  life  —  the  life  of  the 
noblest  and  the  fairest ;  the  sacrifice  of  country 
and  many  precious  ties  —  they  had  won  this 
privilege  of  worshipping  God  in  their  own  way ; 
of  enjoying  their  Sabbaths  and  their  seasons  of 
spiritual  refreshment,  free  from  molestation  and 


68  NAOMI. 

interruption.  They  had  purchased  twice  over 
their  rockbound  vineyard,  where  with  infinite 
trouble  and  toil  they  had  planted  their  little 
vine,  —  the  church.  It  had  been  made  to  take 
root,  and  to  live  by  the  heavy  sweat  of  their 
honest  brows ;  its  roots  had  been  nourished  by 
their  freely  flowing  blood  ;  it  had  been  watered 
by  their  heart-wrung  tears  ;  the  precious  dews 
of  heaven  had  rested  upon  it ;  and,  now  that 
they  could  sit  under  its  shadow  to  enjoy  sweet 
refreshment,  should  they  leave  gaps  in  the 
hedges  for  every  marauding  enemy  to  enter  ? 
Should  Ranters  and  Seekers,  Brownists  and 
Quakers,  have  free  entrance,  to  trample  down 
and  pluck  the  precious  fruits  of  their  own  vine  ? 
Should  they  allow  Antinomians  and  heretics, 
free-thinkers  and  Universalists,  to  graft  strange 
shoots  upon  their  precious  stock  ?  No,  they  had 
a  perfect  right  to  drive  them  off,  and  to  shut 
and  bar  their  gates  against  them  ;  and  if  such 
returned  with  the  same  evil  purposes,  they  must 
be  branded  as  thieves  and  vagrants,  and,  if  they 
could  be  restrained  in  no  other  way,  imprisoned 
and  punished  with  the  utmost  severity.  Thus 
reasoned  and  thus  acted  the  wisest  of  our  fore 
fathers. 

When    Mr.    Aldersey's    family    joined    the 
thronging  company  in  the  streets,  Naomi  was 


NAOMI.  69 

struck  with  the  serious  and  stern  aspect  of  the 
gathering  multitudes.  Grave  men,  sweet,  com 
posed  countenances  of  women,  repressed  gayety 
in  the  children,  all  showed  that  the  most  earnest 
concern  of  life  was  awaiting  their  presence  in 
their  temple  of  worship.  This  was  a  large, 
square,  rough  building,  with  a  small  belfry  on 
the  roof,  standing  at  a  point,  or  rather  forming 
the  centre,  from  which  the  principal  streets  di 
verged.  Time  had  not,  as  with  the  churches 
to  which  Naomi  had  been  accustomed,  woven  a 
mantle  of  ivy  and  moss  to  conceal  the  imper 
fections  of  the  architecture,  nor  had  the  chang 
ing  seasons  left  a  legacy  of  time-wrought  em 
broidery  upon  the  naked  shingles.  They  had 
indeed  attained  a  softened  coloring  from  age, 
the  changes  of  seasons  for  thirty  years  having 
left  a  rich  tint  of  brown  upon  the  unplaned 
boards. 

The  interior  corresponded  with  the  outside. 
There  was  no  ornament  upon  the  walls,  nor 
painted  hue  upon  the  diamond-paned  windows. 
The  boarded  walls  and  naked  beams  were  the 
work  of  poverty,  and  not  of  art ;  but  as  the 
boards  were  of  oak,  a  richer  tint  was  imparted 
to  the  aspect  within.  The  pulpit  alone  was 
adorned  with  a  crimson  curtain,  and  the  seat 
of  the  governor  distinguished  by  a  rude  canopy  ; 


70  NAOMI. 

the  hour-glass,  inclosed  in  a  sort  of  wooden 
frame,  was  a  conspicuous  ornament  of  the  pulpit. 

The  congregation  were  not  seated  in  families, 
but  according  to  their  rank  and  civil  distinction, 
upon  long  seats  divided  in  the  centre  by  an 
aisle,  that  separated  the  males  and  the  females. 
The  elders  and  deacons,  with  snowy  heads  and 
stern  faces,  sat  beneath  the  pulpit,  facing  the 
congregation  ;  they  were  the  police-officers  of 
the  church,  and  took  note  of  every  irregularity. 
Little  girls  were  permitted  to  sit  with  their 
mothers,  but  the  young  people  generally  were 
arranged  in  the  front  of  the  gallery  ;  boys  were 
tucked  upon  the  stairs,  with  constables  to  check 
every  rising  emotion,  every  outbreak  of  weari 
ness  or  glee. 

The  distinctions  of  rank,  the  precedence  taken 
by  the  aristocracy  of  the  country,  the  vast  differ 
ence  in  the  dress  of  those  who  were  the  gentle 
men  and  the  working  people  of  the  community, 
were  infinitely  greater  than  at  the  present  day. 
Silk  and  velvet  was  the  common  wear  of  gen 
tlemen  of  the  period,  and  when  we  consider  the 
picturesque  fashion  of  the  time  of  the  Charleses, 
modified  indeed  by  the  Puritans,  but  never  ap 
proaching  even  in  them  to  the  plainness  of  the 
present  day,  we  can  imagine  what  contrasts 
were  presented  in  the  aspect  of  the  assembly,  — 


NAOMI.  71 

the  magistrates  and  the  rich  merchants  in  the 
upper  seats,  with  their  velvet  cloaks,  their  lace 
ruffs  or  rich  falling  collars,  and  their  servants, 
and  the  laboring  men,  in  leathern  doublets  and 
woollen  caps,  ranged  around  the  walls.  The 
building  was  crowded  to  every  inch  of  its  capac 
ity,  —  the  aisles,  the  pulpit-stairs,  the  galleries. 
Here  was  no  altar,  no  picture,  no  mural  mon 
ument,  no  gilded  inscription,  no  chandelier,  no 
velvet  draperies  ;  but  a  sea  of  serious  and  up 
turned  faces.  These  bare  walls,  these  rude 
board  seats,  had  been  consecrated  by  the  prayers 
and  tears,  the  trials  and  struggles,  the  sacred 
and  touching  memories,  of  the  Puritan  pilgrims. 
Here  they  entered  into  the  church  covenant, 
that  alone  gave  them  the  privileges  of  freemen, 
and  here  only  were  the  children  of  these  free 
men  baptized  into  liberty.  The  civil  well- 
being,  as  well  as  the  deepest  feelings  of  the 
human  heart,  clustered  around  these  bare  rafters 
and  naked  walls.  Devotion  was  the  great  sol 
ace  of  the  lives  of  our  forefathers,  and  the  nice 
distinctions  of  metaphysical  theology  were  the 
employment  of  their  leisure  hours. 

Under  this  poor  raftered  roof  had  the  greatly 
gifted,  the  learned  and  liberal,  the  winning  and 
courteous  Cotton  announced  to  laymen  the  opin 
ions  that  influenced  the  policy  of  the  government, 


72  NAOMI. 

and  here  had  he  been  followed  to  the  grave 
by  the  funeral  wail  of  the  country,  from  Ply 
mouth  to  New  Haven.  Winthrop,  the  upright 
magistrate,  had  here  received  those  modest  hon 
ors  within  their  gift.  These  had  been  the  shin 
ing  lights,  the  guiding  stars,  of  the  colony,  that 
had  lately  gone  down  in  the  west  and  left  a 
gloom  in  the  whole  colony,  especially  over  the 
little  community  of  Boston. 

Naomi's  entrance  to  the  seat  appointed  for 
her  had  been  a  little  delayed  by  the  governor 
immediately  preceding  her,  accompanied  by  his 
halberdiers,  who  went  before  him  with  their 
staves,  and  placed  them  one  on  each  side  of 
his  seat ;  this  was  a  voluntary  service,  and  ren 
dered  with  a  free  heart,  unless  some  unpopular 
act  of  the  governor  made  them  withhold  the 
honor.  Mr.  Aldersey  drew  the  eyes  of  the  con 
gregation  upon  Naomi,  by  walking  up  to  the 
plate  by  the  pulpit-stairs,  and  placing  an  addi 
tional  offering  there,  because  his  step-daughter 
had  been  added  to  his  family.  As  he  returned 
to  his  seat,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson  rose  to  pray, 
and  every  sound  was  hushed,  and  every  wander 
ing  eye-glance  recalled  and  cast  down.  Then 
followed  the  psalm,  from  the  old  version  of 
Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  read  and  sung  in  single 
lines.  This  break  in  the  harmony  was  painful 


to  a  musical  ear,  but  the  windows  of  the  house 
were  open,  and  the  waving  branches  of  trees 
that  were  near  the  meeting-house  supplied  a 
continual  melody  to  Naomi's  ear,  that  softened 
the  discords  of  inharmonious  voices. 

The  Rev.  John  Norton  rose  to  preach.  His 
deep-set  and  piercing  eye  seemed  to  search 
the  soul  of  every  listener,  and  his  voice,  deep 
and  penetrating,  arrested  and  riveted  attention. 
His  people  had  lately  observed  a  change  in  his 
countenance ;  a  fixed  melancholy  had  settled 
upon  his  features ;  perhaps  he  already  felt  the 
shadow  of  the  hand  that  only  a  few  years  af 
terwards  beckoned  him  silently  and  suddenly 
away.  This  sermon  was  a  violent  denunciation 
of  the  iniquity  of  the  times,  "  like  the  iniquity 
of  Sodom,  pride,  fulness  of  bread,  and  abun 
dance  of  idleness."  He  lamented  the  coldness 
and  corruption  of  the  age,  the  idleness  and  fri 
volity  of  the  young  men,  and  the  selfishness  and 
degeneracy  of  their  fathers  ;  the  vanity  and  arts 
of  seduction  of  the  women ;  the  long  hair  of  the 
men,  the  hoods  and  veils  of  the  women.  Ac 
customed  as  Naomi  was  to  regard  outward  sim 
plicity  as  the  expression  of  inward  purity  and 
integrity,  this  insisting  upon  external  conformity 
to  a  mere  sumptuary  law  seemed  like  the  pol 
ishing  of  the  rind  and  husk  of  the  fruit,  when 
the  kernel  was  absent  or  worthless. 


74  NAOMI. 

In  the  midst  of  the  most  interesting  part  of 
his  sermon,  for  the  elder,  the  guardian  of  the 
hour-glass,  had  just  turned  its  running  sand  for 
the  second  time,  an  appalling  interruption  to 
one  unprepared,  as  was  Naomi,  took  place.  The 
door  was  suddenly  thrown  open,  and  two  per 
sons,  clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  sackcloth, 
their  long  hair  streaming  over  their  faces  and 
completely  filled  with  ashes,  and  their  faces 
deathly  pale,  strode  up  the  middle  aisle  and 
placed  themselves  in  front  of  the  preacher.  At 
first  they  were  silent. 

Mr.  Norton  paused  in  his  sermon,  and  said, 
in  a  stern  voice,  "  What  do  you  here  ?  Chil 
dren  of  the  Devil,  daughters  of  blasphemies, 
and  inheritors  of  lies !  what  do  you  here  ? 
Depart  from  this  sanctuary  !  Turn  from  your 
iniquities  and  your  sins !  Repent  of  your  her 
esies  and  your  evil  doings  ;  for  the  great  day 
of  wrath  is  coming  upon  you."  They  stood 
perfectly  unmoved,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Norton 
raised  his  voice  still  louder.  "  Depart,"  he  said, 
"  children  of  the  Devil,  from  this  sanctuary  of 
the  Lord,  which  you  pollute  with  your  blas 
phemies  !  " 

One  of  the  women  then  turned  to  the  people, 
and  cried  out,  in  a  loud  and  piercing  voice, — 
"  Listen  not,  deluded  people,  to  that  wicked 


NAOMI.  75 

priest,  John  Norton  ;  that  whited  sepulchre,  out 
of  whose  mouth  death  feeds  death,  and  whose 
dry  skeleton-bones  contain  no  heart." 

Naomi  gazed  at  this  horrible  spectacle  with 
amazement  and  fear ;  were  these,  then,  she 
thought,  Quakers,  owning  the  same  simple  and 
beautiful  faith  that  was  her  own  ?  And  she 
felt  her  knees  trembling  beneath  her,  and  the 
color  forsake  her  lips  and  cheeks. 

Governor  Endicott  was  prompt  in  his  meas 
ures  ;  he  gave  a  sign  to  the  constables,  who 
were  at  this  period  the  most  respectable  men 
in  the  community,  and  the  two  women  were 
instantly  conveyed  away  to  prison.  These  and 
such  like  interruptions  from  Quakers  were  so 
frequent  at  this  period,  that  this  one  produced 
only  a  momentary  excitement  in  the  congre 
gation.  Not  so  with  Naomi ;  she  felt  that,  oc 
curring  upon  her  first  Sunday  in  her  new  home, 
it  was  ominous  to  her  of  what  was  to  follow. 
She  thought  of  her  mother,  and  looked  round, 
as  it  were  for  protection  ;  a  sense  of  faintness 
came  over  her,  and  she  would  have  fallen,  had 
not  Faith,  who  sat  not  very  far  from  her,  grasp 
ed  her  hand  and  recalled  her  to  self-possession 
before  the  observation  of  the  audience  was 
turned  towards  her. 

Naomi  had  completely  regained  her  serenity 


76  NAOMI. 

when  the  service  was  over,  and  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Wilson  had  pronounced  the  blessing,  with  out 
spread  arms,  over  the  waiting  assembly.  No 
one  moved,  such  was  the  respectful  reverence 
of  the  times,  till  the  ministers  and  elders  had 
descended  the  aisle.  They  came  with  digni 
fied  and  courteous  demeanour,  dispensing  smiles 
and  kind  inquiries  to  each  of  their  flock.  They 
paused  at  the  seat  of  Naomi,  and  greeted  her 
with  paternal  interest ;  she  was  a  lamb  added 
to  the  flock  of  which  they  were  the  shepherds. 
There  was  a  certain  indefinable  manner,  a  some 
thing,  even  in  this  short  greeting,  that  disclosed 
the  stern  relation  which  existed  between  them  ; 
the  position  which  they,  as  their  undoubted 
right,  assumed  towards  her,  and  to  which  she, 
on  her  part,  was  to  submit  as  to  her  unques 
tioning  duty. 

Even  in  this  short  interview  she  felt  the 
sharp,  but  at  this  moment  the  light,  pressure 
of  that  spiritual  domination  over  conscience, 
that,  like  an  iron  chain  placed  around  a  vigorous 
tree,  checks  not  its  upward  growth,  but  eats 
into  its  very  heart,  and  mars  its  expanding  and 
symmetrical  beauty. 

The  congregation  followed  the  steps  of  the 
teachers,  and  now  again  the  narrow  and  wind 
ing  streets  of  the  little  town  were  full  of  the 


NAOMI.  77 

worshipping  people,  all,  with  silent  steps  and 
deeply  meditative  faces,  seeking  their  well- 
ordered  homes.  No  joyous  children  gambolled 
their  satisfaction  at  the  conclusion  of  the  tedious 
service  ;  their  joy  was  silent,  but,  we  may  well 
believe,  sincerer  than  at  the  present  day,  when 
the  restraint  is  so  light  and  short ;  no  worldly 
footsteps  were  bent  towards  the  post-office,  or 
the  news-rooms ;  no  loving  pairs  sought  the 
shaded  retirement  of  the  common,  then,  as  now, 
attractive  in  verdant  beauty.  No,  they  went 
to  their  homes  to  read  and  pray  j  to  meditate 
upon  the  sermon,  and  prepare  to  make  it  the 
discussion  of  the  Monday  morning,  when  the 
merchants  met  in  the  market-place,  and  of 
the  Monday  evening,  when  their  wives  met 
at  that  rare  luxury,  the  tea-table,  and  mingled 
theology  with  the  e very-day  affairs  of  life,  as 
the  only  vital  and  ever-interesting  subject. 

At  the  close  of  the  afternoon  service  a  scene 
occurred,  so  characteristic  of  the  time  and  of  the 
community  that  it  deserves  a  record.  A  case 
of  church  discipline  had  been  announced  the 
preceding  Sunday,  and  the  parties  summoned 
to  appear  before  the  ministers  and  elders.  This 
was  a  breach  of  a  promise  of  marriage,  brought 
against  a  young  man,  a  member,  of  the  church, 
—  one  distinguished  for  his  exemplary  walk  and 


78  NAOMI. 

conversation,  his  formal  observance  of  the  Sab 
bath,  and  preeminence  in  all  pious  exercises,  and 
of  course  belonging  to  the  fashionable  circle. 
The  complaint  was  made  by  the  family  of  the 
young  lady.  Although  they  were  reputed 
wealthy,  neither  the  mother  of  the  young  lady 
nor  the  lady  herself  was  a  member  of  the 
church.  It  was  an  unusual  and  rare  occurrence 
for  a  member  of  the  church  to  seek  an  alliance 
with  one  out  of  its  pale  ;  but  the  father  of  the 
young  lady  was  reputed  wealthy,  and  she  was 
an  only  child.  He  had  lately  met  with  mis 
fortunes,  and  subsequently  the  match  was  broken 
off.  The  father,  exasperated  at  what  he  con 
sidered  an  injury  and  insult  to  his  daughter, 
brought  the  circumstances  before  the  church 
to  be  tried,  as  it  were,  at  the  ecclesiastical 
court  of  the  ministers  and  elders.  Now  it  ap 
peared  in  evidence  that  the  engagement  had 
been  broken  off,  on  the  part  of  the  gentleman, 
immediately  after  the  misfortunes  of  the  father 
of  his  bride,  and  without  alleging  any  cause 
but  the  want  of  piety  on  the  part  of  the  young 
lady.  She  was  not  in  a  state  of  grace,  he  said. 
It  was  forbidden  in  Scripture  for  the  believer 
to  yoke  with  the  unbeliever. 

The  young,  girl  herself,    overwhelmed   with 
confusion  and  outraged  modesty,  had  most  re- 


NAOMI.  79 

luctantly  consented  to  this  public  exposure. 
She  stood  with  pale  cheek  and  trembling,  blanch 
ed  lips,  betraying,  perhaps,  a  deep  and  heartfelt 
interest  in  her  faithless  lover,  that  she  would 
fain  have  concealed,  while  he,  with  spiritual 
pride,  affected  to  lament  his  conscientious  scru 
ples.  "  Had  she,  alas !  had  any  convictions  of 
sin,  had  she  been  only  touched  with  repen 
tance,  with  the  hope  of  conversion,  with  any 
signs  of  grace,"  he  said,  "  her  person  would 
have  been  as  precious  in  his  eyes  as  her  soul ; 
for  God  knew  he  had  prayed  day  and  night  for 
her  conversion." 

This  was  a  most  delicate  and  difficult  subject 
for  the  ministers  to  legislate  upon.  Neither 
Moses  nor  Paul  had  given  any  precise  directions 
to  guide  their  decision  in  such  a  case.  It  could, 
indeed,  have  been  determined  by  every  man  of 
honor,  and  every  woman  of  feeling,  from  the 
dictates  of  their  own  hearts.  Cotton  probably 
would  have  refused  to  legislate  upon  such  a 
case,  and  Winthrop  to  record  it  in  his  annals ; 
but,  as  we  have  said  above,  a  rougher  and  sterner 
race  of  men  had  succeeded  to  the  first  chival 
rous  age.  The  ministers  and  elders  were  divid 
ed  in  opinion,  and  the  shades  of  evening  began 
to  envelop  the  building,  and  the  waving  branch 
es  of  the  trees  around  the  meeting-house  began 


80  NAOMI. 

to  cast  uncertain  and  mysterious  shadows  within 
it,  before  they  could  arrive  at  any  unanimity 
of  opinion.  At  length  it  was  decided  to  adjourn 
the  debate  till  the  next  Thursday,  after  the  Lec 
ture,  and  the  young  man  and  young  woman 
were  commended  as  subjects  of  prayer  to  every 
member  of  the  church. 

Arrived  again  at  home,  Naomi  found  that  the 
Sabbath  and  its  instructions  were  not  yet  ended. 
Mr.  Aldersey  was  exemplary  in  all  the  duties 
that  the  strictness  of  the  times  demanded  from 
every  head  of  a  family. 

Before  the  slight  repast  of  the  evening  was 
prepared  or  partaken  of,  every  member  of  the 
family  was  summoned  to  catechizing  and  the 
evening  worship,  which,  at  the  going  down  of 
the  sun,  closed  the  sacred  observance  of  the  Sab 
bath.  No  one  was  excused  from  this  family 
service ;  neither  the  clerks  of  the  store  and 
counting-house,  nor  the  oldest  servants  in  the 
kitchen.  Sambo,  who  could  not  read,  was 
exempted  from  learning  the  catechism  by  heart ; 
but  he  always  stood  behind  his  master's  chair, 
with  the  open  Bible  in  his  hand,  trying  to  spell 
the  words  as  Mr.  Aldersey  read  them  aloud. 
He  kept  up,  in  an  undertone,  a  sort  of  running 
commentary  upon  the  instructions  that  were 
given.  This  evening  the  chapter  that  Mr.  Al- 


NAOMI.  81 

dersey  read  contained  the  beautiful  incident 
of  the  poor  widow  who  cast  all  her  living  into 
the  treasury.  Sambo  inquired  into  the  form 
and  use  of  the  treasury.  Mr.  Aldersey  ex 
plained  that  it  was  a  large  chest  to  receive  the 
tribute.  Tribute  was  entirely  unintelligible  to 
Sambo  ;  but  he  said  he  hoped  it  was  not  very 
cold  weather  when  the  poor  widow  threw  in 
her  two  mittens.  (He  had  taken  the  idea  from 
his  own  spelling.)  This  mistake  of  poor  Sam 
bo  diffused  a  general  titter  among  the  clerks 
and  the  maid-servants ;  though  as  Mr.  Alder 
sey  had  not  heard  a  word  of  Sambo's  blunder, 
but  passed  it  all  over  as  his  general  commen 
tary,  he  went  on  to  exhort  upon  the  unsatisfac 
tory  nature  of  all  riches,  and  that  the  Bible 
enjoined  not  only  poverty  of  spirit,  but  a  cer 
tain  degree  of  poverty  in  outward  things. 

As  Mr.  Aldersey  left  the  room,  after  the  de 
votions  were  finished,  Sambo  followed  him,  and 
said,  with  a  peculiar  twinkle  in  his  eye,  as  he 
looked  up  cunningly,  —  "  Now,  Massa,  you  going 
count  up,  see  how  much  richer  you  are  to-day 
than  last  Sabber  day." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

"  Lo  !  a  new  race,  —  an  iron-hearted  band, 
The  banished  wanderers  from  a  distant  land  ; 
These  sweet  religion's  sacred  flag  unfurled, 
And  bade  it  float  to  bless  another  world." 

WHEN  we  read  at  this  distance  of  time  the 
quaint  and  homely  annalists  of  our  early  age, 
we  are  apt  to  think  something  low  and  vulgar 
must  have  attached  itself  to  the  appearance  and 
manners  of  our  forefathers.  We  are  misled  by 
the  dry  and  skeleton  narratives  of  the  times, 
where  the  bare  facts,  in  all  their  harsh  outline, 
are  recorded,  neither  clothed  by  corroborating 
circumstances,  nor  softened  by  the  sympathies 
of  unrecorded  emotion.  Winthrop's  Journal,  to 
any  but  an  historian  or  an  antiquary,  is  like  the 
stripped  and  chilled  forest  in  a  wintry  day,  with 
here  and  there  only  a  verdant  twig,  to  show 
that  it  was  a  noble  grove  full  of  energy  and 
life ;  but  Winthrop's  letters  to  his  wife  are 
among  the  most  graceful  and  touching  compo 
sitions  that  have  ever  been  written,  showing 
that  he  was  a  noble,  a  courteous,  a  generous, 
and  chivalrous  gentleman.  The  manners  and 


NAOMI.  83 

sentiments  of  the  best  of  our  forefathers  bore 
the  stamp  of  the  best  of  English  society  in  that 
age  of  luxury  and  far-advanced  civilization.  To 
their  high  religious  and  moral  qualities,  they 
added  learning  and  accomplishments.  They 
came  from  among  the  nobility  and  the  church, 
and  although  Puritans,  those  who  first  came 
to  Boston  had  not  thrown  off  their  allegiance 
to  the  church,  and  were  not  at  that  time  the 
rigid  non-conformists  that  they  afterwards  be 
came. 

The  ministers,  also,  were  among  the  most  ac 
complished  of  the  sons  of  the  church.  They 
had  been  educated  at  the  Universities,  and  were 
among  the  first  scholars  of  Cambridge  and  Ox 
ford.  Some  of  them  had  been  chaplains  in 
noble  families,  and  had  formed  intimate  friend 
ships  with  the  ladies  of  those  families.  Al 
though  stern,  uncompromising,  even  terrible,  in 
the  pulpit,  their  manners  in  private  life  were 
distinguished  by  an  elegant  courteousness  ;  with 
ladies  it  might  be  called  a  delicate  and  refined 
flattery.  They  were  learned  even  to  pedantry  ; 
ever  ready  with  classical  quotations,  and  much 
addicted  to  that  species  of  wit  called  punning. 
Anagrams,  also,  were  a  favorite  exercise  of  their 
ingenuity,  by  which  they  contrived  to  convey 
a  delicate  eulogy,  which  the  simple  name  could 


84  NAOMI. 

not  express.  If  the  position  they  occupied  in 
the  New  World  gave  to  their  manners  some 
what  the  air  of  superiority  and  dictatorial  de 
cision,  it  was  an  assumption  so  wholly  unques 
tioned,  a  superiority  so  universally  admitted, 
that  they  took  precedence  as  by  a  divine  right. 

Naomi  knew  this,  and  was  not  surprised, 
therefore,  when,  the  next  day,  the  teachers  and 
pastors  of  the  Boston  churches  —  there  were  now 
two  —  and  the  ministers  of  the  neighbouring 
churches  came  to  welcome  her  arrival,  to  find 
them  perfect  gentlemen,  with  a  courteous  polite 
ness  to  ladies,  a  free  and  unrestrained  pleas 
antry  among  themselves,  with  sparkling  repartee 
and  wit. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson  was  the  earliest  visitor, 
now  somewhat  advanced  in  age,  but  yet  distin 
guished  by  that  sweetness  of  character  and  man 
ner  that  caused  him  to  be  universally  beloved. 
This  epitaph,  a  few  years  later,  bore  nor  false  nor 
too  flattering  testimony  to  his  urbanity.  It  was 
written  in  reference  to  his  peculiar  habit  of  turn 
ing  every  name  into  an  anagram. 

"JOHN  WILSON. 

"  O,  change  it  not!  no  sweeter  name  nor  thing, 
Throughout  the  world,  within  our  ears  shall  ring." 

Soon  after  came  the  Rev.  John  Norton,  a  dark- 


NAOMI.  85 

complexioned  and  somewhat  stern-looking  man, 
others  of  the  most  noted  inhabitants,  and  some 
of  the  ministers  of  the  adjoining  towns.  Boston 
was  the  centre  of  attraction  at  that  time,  as  it 
now  is,  because  of  the  market  held  every  week, 
and  the  Thursday  Lecture,  although  it  had  not 
the  preeminence  over  Charlestown,  Roxbury, 
Newtown,  and  Dorchester  that  it  afterwards 
attained.  The  conversation  was  animated,  en 
livened  with  wit,  and  frequently  garnished  by 
allusions  to  classical  subjects.  The  ministers 
even  ventured  upon  Latin  quotations,  apologiz 
ing,  however,  to  Naomi  whenever  this  occurred. 
At  the  present  day  such  apology  would  not  be 
requisite  ;  but  now,  when  the  ladies  are  taught 
Latin,  gentlemen  rarely  venture  upon  a  quota 
tion  for  their  benefit. 

It  was  in  the  colony  a  most  interesting  time 
with  regard  to  the  mother  country.  Charles  had 
just  been  restored  to  his  throne,  and,  as  I  have 
said  before,  rumors  had  reached  Boston  of  his 
displeasure  at  the  treatment  of  the  Quakers. 
Home,  as  England  was  then  called,  although 
with  no  expectation  of  ever  returning  there  as  to 
a  home,  was  the  place  to  which  all  referred, 
as  to  the  supreme  umpire  in  opinion.  What 
will  be  said  at  home  ?  what  will  be  thought  at 
home  ?  was  the  question  that  every  one  men- 


86  NAOMI. 

tally  asked.  No  one  can  read  the  records  and 
letters  of  the  time,  without  perceiving  the  ex 
treme  anxiety  of  the  colonists  to  be  thought 
well  of  in  the  mother  country. 

The  conversation  soon  turned  upon  the  ab 
sorbing  subject  of  interest,  the  Quakers,  and 
the  terrible  interruption  of  public  worship  yes 
terday.  The  ministers  had  observed  Naomi's 
terror,  but  had  mistaken  its  cause.  Now  again 
blazed  forth  the  bitter  spirit  of  persecution. 
The  Rev.  Mr.  Norton,  in  the  violence  of  his 
invective,  cried  out,  "  O,  hang  them !  hang  them 

all !  or  ,"  and  he  made  the  sign  of  the  axe 

across  his  throat. 

"  Ah !  "  cried  another  of  the  most  intolerant, 
"  I  would  not  soil  my  hands  with  them ;  but  I 
should  be  well  content  to  see  them  riding  to 
hell  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  Anabaptists." 

Naomi  ventured  to  lift  up  her  voice  ;  she  said 
she  condemned  all  their  extravagances,  and  ab 
horred  such  an  exhibition  as  they  made  yes 
terday  in  the  church,  but  she  thought  their 
tenets  were  harmless  when  kept  only  as  a  solace 
within  one's  own  breast. 

There  was  a  silence  after  this,  and  the  min 
isters  looked  at  each  other.  Naomi  had  ex 
pressed  a  dangerous  heresy,  but  still  they  were 
unwilling,  upon  this  their  first  interview,  to 


NAOMI.  87 

treat  her  rudely.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson  said,  — 
"  Ah  !  my  dear  young  lady,  you  plead  the  cause 
of  the  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  he  may  de 
vour,  with  the  tender  voice  of  the  lamb.  There 
can  be  710  harmless  Quaker ;  we  must  destroy 
them,  as  we  do  the  dangerous  beast,  the  poison 
ous  reptile." 

Naomi  was  silent ;  she  felt  her  heart  sink 
within  her.  Her  dejection  was  observed,  and 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Norton,  to  call  back  her  thoughts, 
began  to  make  pleasant  remarks  upon  the  He 
brew  signification  of  her  name.  "  Naomi,  beauti 
ful-sweet  "  ;  it  could  only  become  Marah,  bitter ', 
he  said,  whenever  she  should  think  of  leav 
ing  them. 

Soon  after,  they  took  leave,  courteously  and 
pleasantly,  but  the  ministers  resolved  in  their 
hearts  to  observe  Naomi  more  closely. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

"  Take,  then,  my  prayer,  ye  dwellers  of  this  spot :  — 
Be  yours  a  noiseless  and  a  guiltless  lot, 
Free  from  the  tyrants  of  the  hour, 
The  clans  of  wealth,  the  clans  of  power, 
The  coarse,  cold  scorners  of  their  God  ; 

Free  from  the  taint  of  sin, 

The  leprosy  that  feeds  within, 
And  free,  in  mercy,  from  the  bigot's  rod. 

Be  purity  of  life  the  test, 

Leave  to  the  heart,  to  Heaven,  the  rest." 

SPRAGUE. 

MY  readers  must  not  suppose  that  elders, 
teachers,  and  ministers  were  the  only  visitors 
who  paid  the  respect  of  a  visit  to  the  newly 
arrived.  The  good  dames  and  the  young  ladies 
of  the  town  all  hastened  to  see  the  person 
whose  safe  voyage  had  been  announced  the  day 
before  by  a  note  of  thanks  from  the  pulpit. 
Attracted  by  sympathy  and  good-will,  and  no 
less  by  curiosity  to  observe  the  last  fashion  of 
dress  from  the  mother  country,  they  left  Naomi 
hardly  a  day,  during  the  first  fortnight,  without 
a  succession  of  visitors.  The  simplicity  of  her 
own  dress  was  the  subject  of  excessive  and 
almost  incredulous  surprise.  It  was  just  the 


NAOMI.  89 

intervening  period  in  England  between  the  far- 
thinggale  (hoop),  the  monstrous  starched  ruff  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  and  the  studied  negligence 
and  elegant  dishabille  of  the  reign  of  Charles 
the  Second.  Naomi  was  dressed  in  a  full  silk, 
of  what  is  now  a  quiet  color,  —  that  is,  not  a 
rich  nor  striking  tint,  —  with  full  sleeves,  de 
scending  a  few  inches  below  the  elbow,  where 
they  were  confined  by  a  band,  leaving  the  snowy 
arm  uncovered  to  the  wrist.  A  broad  falling 
collar  of  lace,  called  a  vandyke,  covered  the 
neck  and  shoulders,  and  the  hair  was  in  natural 
curls  around  the  temples  and  neck.  Naomi's 
hair  was  soft  and  silky,  and  just  waved  in  a 
natural  undulation  ;  she  had  at  this  time  fold 
ed  and  collected  it  behind  with  a  bodkin,  giv 
ing  to  the  form  of  the  head  much  the  fashion 
of  the  present  day. 

This  simple  costume  was,  in  fact,  the  latest 
fashion  ;  but  to  the  good  dames  of  Boston  it 
seemed  ridiculously  plain,  accustomed  as  they 
were  to 

"  Chains,  coronets,  pendants,  bracelets,  ear-rings ; 
Pins,  girdles,  spangles,  embroideries,  and  rings ; 
Shadows,  rebatoes,  ribbons,  ruffs,  cuffs,  falls, 
Scarfs,  feathers,  fans,  masks,  muffs,  laces,  cauls, 
Thin  tiffany,  cobweb  lawn,  and  fardengals, 
Sweet  falls,  vayles,  wimples,  glasses,  crispen  pins, 
Coyfes,  gorgets,  fringes,  rowles,  fillets,  and  hair  laces, 
Silks,  damasks,  velvets,  tinsels,  cloth  of  gold, 
And  tissues  of  colors  of  a  hundred  fold/' 


90  NAOMI. 

The  young  people  of  Boston,  both  male  and 
female,  were  never  weary  of  asking  Naomi 
questions  about  the  mother  country,  and  those 
who  were  placed  on  high,  in  stations  of  honor, 
were  the  principal  subjects  of  their  curiosity,  — 
the  profligate  but  still  fascinating  Charles,  the 
ladies  of  the  court,  Mistress  Nell  Gwynn,  of 
whom  exaggerated  tales  had  reached  the  little 
Puritan  town.  There  was  a  peculiar  fascination 
presented  by  the  strong  contrasts  that  existed 
at  this  time  in  manners  and  morals,  often  bring 
ing  together  in  the  New  World  the  extremes 
of  Puritan  asceticism  on  one  side,  and  profligate 
indulgence  on  the  other. 

"  Is  it  true,"  asked  one  of  the  young  ladies, 
"  that  they  have  left  all  stays  and  stomachers 
at  court,  and  appear  in  full  dress,  with  only 
a  sort  of  loose  bed-gown,  made,  indeed,  of  silks 
and  brocades,  and  trimmed  with  jewels  and 
ribbons  ?  " 

Naomi  said  she  had  never  been  at  court,  but 
she  believed  negligence  and  ease  had  come  into 
fashion,  and  that  a  lady  could  recline  upon  a 
couch  in  full  dress,  instead  of  standing  bolt 
upright,  as  they  did  in  the  days  of  Q,ueen 
Elizabeth. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  a  young  gentleman  present,  "  the 
best  of  all  is,  they  have  got  the  players  back. 


NAOMI.  91 

Glorious  Will  Shakspeare  treads  the  boards 
again.  Ah  !  that  's  what  I  would  go  home  for, 
to  see  one  of  his  plays  acted."  And  turning 
to  Naomi,  he  asked  abruptly,  —  "  Have  you  been 
at  the  playhouse  ?  " 

There  was  a  general  look  of  consternation 
among  the  stricter  portion  of  the  company. 
Naomi  was  spared  answering,  by  some  one  ask 
ing,  at  the  same  moment,  "  Had  she  been  much 
at  the  Episcopal  church  ?  "  Naomi  had  been  to 
no  other  till  after  she  had  heard  the  preaching 
of  George  Fox.  Her  father's  relatives,  among 
whom  she  lived,  were  all  for  the  king  and  the 
church  ;  but  Naomi  could  answer  that  she  did 
not  now  go  to  church. 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  gentleman,  the  ad 
vocate  of  the  playhouse,  "  I  can  tell  you  a  good 
story  and  a  true  one,  for  it  happened  in  the 
family  of  one  of  my  relations.  Mr.  Winthrop, 
the  son  of  the  governor,  kept  a  great  many 
books  in  an  upper  chamber  in  his  house,  among 
them  a  book  of  common  prayer  and  the  psalms 
of  David  bound  together.  Well,  the  rats,  that 
were  fond  of  visiting  the  library  for  their  own 
delectation,  seized  hold  of  the  common  prayer 
and  devoured  every  leaf,  while  the  precious 
psalms  remained  untouched.  Now  what  do 
you  think  of  that  ?  "  he  said,  turning  to  Naomi. 


92  NAOMI. 

"  Does  it  not  prove  that  the  prayer-book  of  the 
church  ought  to  be  destroyed,  and  that  Prov 
idence  will  help  the  work  by  senseless  beasts 
and  vermin  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  proves  nothing,  but  that  the  hon 
orable  Winthrop  did  not  keep  a  cat,"  said 
Naomi. 

"  Or,"  said  one  of  the  gentlemen,  "  that  the 
prayer-book  had  been  so  much  turned  over,  by 
not  the  neatest  fingers  in  the  world,  — not  by  the 
gloved  hands  of  young  ladies,  but  by  some  right 
reverend  who  loved  a  good  dinner,  —  that  it  had 
acquired  a  savory  and  oily  flavor,  more  inviting 
to  the  epicure  rats  than  the  clean  pages  of  the 
psalms." 

Naomi  smiled ;  she  thought  it  was  the  true 
solution  of  the  miracle,  but  she  was  surprised 
to  find  so  much  freedom  of  speech  upon  the 
very  spot  of  strictest  Puritanism. 

Prom  fashion  and  the  prayer-book,  the  con 
versation  turned  upon  the  Quakers,  the  all-absorb 
ing  subject  at  this  period  ;  for,  let  the  conver 
sation  take  what  course  it  would,  it  generally 
terminated  by  a  dispute  on  the  subject  of  the 
persecution  of  the  Quakers.  There  was  already 
a  strong  party  in  Boston,  principally  among  the 
least  rigid  of  the  Puritans,  who  opposed  the 
spirit  of  persecution,  and  believed  the  Quakers 


NAOMI.  93 

themselves  would  never  molest  Boston,  were  it 
not  for  the  pleasure  of  notoriety  and  an  eager 
desire  for  martyrdom. 

"  We  will  soon  show  you  how  we  treat 
strangers,"  said  one  of  these  to  Naomi ;  "  you 
will  soon  see  a  specimen  of  our  politeness  to 
strangers,  especially  of  your  own  sex ;  you  will 
think  perhaps  that  the  days  of  chivalry  have 
revived  on  this  side  of  the  water,  when  you  see, 
perhaps  at  your  next  walk  in  the  street,  one  of 
your  own  sex,  as  young,  as  tender,  almost  as 
delicate  as  yourself,  tied  to  a  cart-tail,  and  fol 
lowed  by  a  rabble  of  boys  and  men,  pelted  with 
rotten  apples  and " 

Seeing  Naomi  turn  pale  as  death,  he  suddenly 
paused,  and  did  not  go  on  to  complete  the  hor 
rible  picture  of  woman's  bare  shoulders  "  all 
gashed  and  gory." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  one  of  the  young 
ladies  to  Naomi,  "  that,  when  I  first  saw  you, 
I  thought  you  were  a  Quaker  ?  " 

"  Why  so  ?  "  asked  Naomi,  the  color  return 
ing  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  "  if  you  will  not  be 
offended,  because  your  dress  was  so  plain,  and 
a  certain  composed  air.  To  be  sure  you  do  not 
say  thee  and  thou,  and  you  go  to-  meeting  ;  but 
you  know  there  are  many  who  do  not  disap- 


94  NAOMI. 

prove  some  of  the  tenets  of  the  Quakers,  and 
though  these  do  not  come  out  openly  in  their 
favor,  and  do  not  avow  their  own  sentiments, 
they  seem  to  me  like  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing." 

"  Naomi  is  more  like  a  lamb  of  the  flock," 
said  a  young  gentleman  who  stood  by,  "  and 
she  has  not  yet  lost  her  beautiful  ears  "  ;  for  he 
observed  that  they  were  crimsoned,  as  was  her 
whole  countenance. 

Naomi  smiled,  and  said,  in  answer  to  the  re 
mark  of  the  lady,  —  "If  you  have  no  better  rea 
son  than  the  plainness  of  my  dress,  you  must 
make  all  the  court  ladies  Quakers,  and  all  who 
adopt  the  new  fashion." 

There  was  a  general  laugh.  Some  of  them 
imagined  Mistress  Gwynn  a  Quaker,  and  her 
beautiful  shoulders  scarred  with  the  hangman's 
whip,  and  in  the  general  hilarity  that  always 
somehow  or  other  takes  place  when  young 
people  of  both  sexes,  whether  they  be  Puritans 
or  the  reverse,  are  collected  together,  Naomi's 
embarrassment  escaped  immediate  observation, 
although  it  was  well  remembered  against  her 
in  after  days. 

After  becoming  acquainted  with  the  good 
people  of  Boston,  Naomi  endeavoured  to  become 
acquainted  with  Boston  itself.  At  the  risk  of 
tiring  my  readers  by  repetition,  I  must  impress 


NAOMI.  95 

upon  them  that  no  locality  upon  the  face  of 
the  earth  could  be  more  beautiful  to  the  eye 
of  taste,  than  the  picturesque  aspect  of  this 
little  town. 

Embraced  in  the  arms  of  its  transparent  and 
azure  bay,  while  its  beautiful  breastwork  of 
hills  rose  so  high  as  to  shelter  it  from  the  force 
of  angry  waves  when  tempests  raged,  and  back 
ed  by  its  amphitheatre  of  gently  swelling  em 
inences, —  its  Charlestown,  Newtown,  Roxbury, 
and  Matapan,  for  ever  standing  sentinels  around 
the  sacred  spot,  —  it  seemed  as  if  Providence  had 
reserved  this  lovely  peninsula,  had  cleared  it 
from  hostile  foes,  and  then  had  "  sifted  the 
nations,"  to  send  a  chosen  few  to  people  it. 
God  reserved  the  place  for  the  people,  and  se 
lected  the  people  for  the  place. 

In  1659  and  1660,  the  date  of  our  narrative, 
the  town  had  greatly  increased  in  wealth  and 
beauty.  The  principal  houses  of  the  tradesmen 
and  gentry  were  around  the  market-place,  where 
is  now  the  old  state-house.  The  highway,  the 
principal  road  into  the  country,  what  is  now 
Washington  Street,  was  the  great  thoroughfare 
for  country  business  ;  but  large  and  handsome 
houses  had  also  been  built  on  Common  Street, 
Hanover  Street,  and  the  North  Square.  These 
houses  were  not  crowded  as  in  our  modern 


96  NAOMI. 

city,  but  were  spacious  dwellings,  surrounded 
by  "  greens,"  gardens,  and  orchards.  The  Rev. 
Mr.  Wilson  had  large  orchards  attached  to  his 
house.  Rev.  Mr.  Cotton's  house  had  been  built 
by  Sir  Henry  Vane,  and  presented  to  him  by 
that  nobleman  when  he  returned  to  England. 
It  stood  on  Common  Street,  near  the  spot  where 
is  now  the  Albion  hotel,  and  was  ascended 
by  a  flight  of  steps,  and  surrounded  by  fruit-trees 
and  gardens. 

None  of  the  elevations  and  undulations  of  the 
natural  arena  had  yet  been  levelled  for  the  sake 
of  more  commodious  streets.  Wharves  had  been 
built  out,  and  foot-bridges  thrown  over  the 
running  waters  and  the  creeks,  that  dissected 
the  place  and  gave  it  its  refreshing  aspect  of 
streams  of  running  water.  The  streets  followed 
the  curves  of  the  valleys,  and  sometimes  ascend 
ed  the  elevations,  so  that  whoever  traversed 
Boston  must  follow  the  nursery  song,  — 

"  Here  we  go  up,  up,  up, 
Here  we  go,  down,  down,  down." 

There  were  many  beautiful  overhanging  thick 
ets  close  to  the  streets,  filled  with  hanging  branch 
es,  and  the  whole  of  Beacon  hill  was  covered 
with  a  dense  shrubbery  of  wild  plants,  inter 
spersed  with  low  pines  and  cedar-bushes.  It 


NAOMI.  97 

was  also  full  of  springs  of  water,  which,  at  the 
breaking  up  of  winter,  after  they  had  been  fed 
with  the  winter's  snow,  overflowed  and  became 
little  cascades,  leaping  from  height  to  height  upon 
the  declivities  of  Beacon  hill.  A  path  had  been 
cleared  with  steps  leading  to  the  beacon,  around 
which  were  placed  some  rude  benches ;  but  all 
else  retained  the  inexpressible  charm  of  primi 
tive  wildness,  and  in  a  summer's  morning  a  de 
lightful  fragrance  arose  upon  the  dewy  air,  the 
mingled  odors  of  hundreds  of  wild  plants  in 
digenous  to  this  favored  spot.  At  the  foot  of 
Beacon  hill  lay  the  training-field  or  common, 
having  much  the  aspect  from  that  height  which 
it  has  at  present.  For  although  it  was  not  pol 
ished  and  regular  as  at  the  present  day,  the 
primeval  trees  of  the  forest  waved  over  the 
green  sward,  as  they  had  been  left  in  irregular 
groups  and  masses. 

This  half-rural,  half-fortified,  and  wholly 
peaceful  and  prosperous  town  possessed  for  Na 
omi  an  inexpressible  charm.  Boston  was  at 
this  time  worthy,  as  it  has  ever  since  been,  of 
the  deep  love,  the  strongest  and  most  respectful 
attachment,  of  its  sons  and  daughters.  Who 
would  not  be  proud  of  its  origin  and  its  history  ? 
All  the  people  were  the  children  of  the  town, 
7 


98  NAOMI. 

and  until  the  Quaker  madness  none  had  been 
oppressed. 

It  is  true,  Mrs.  Hutchinson  and  her  followers 
had  been  banished  ;  but  banished  only  from  this 
soil  and  territory.  The  wide  country  was  open 
to  them  ;  they  could  go  elsewhere  and  enjoy 
their  own  tenets,  and  teach  them  elsewhere. 
The  fathers  of  Boston  wished  no  mischievous, 
busy,  interfering  woman  in  their  united  house 
hold,  slandering  the  most  honored  members  of 
their  large  family,  and  they  denied  her  a  lodging- 
place  in  any  of  the  chambers  of  their  family 
mansion.  They  were  not  capable  of  that  wide 
and  indiscriminate  hospitality  of  him  of  Merry 
Mount,*  which  admitted  heretics,  thieves,  and 
wassailers  into  his  domestic  circle.  They  were 
not  Inquisitors  ;  they  did  not  burn  her  for  her 
heresies ;  they  merely  turned  her  from  their 
premises,  and  shut  the  door  in  her  face. 

Until  the  year  preceding  that  of  which  we 
write,  no  forfeiture  of  life  for  opinions  had  stained 
the  annals  of  the  colony.  "  Hardly  a  nation  of 
Europe  has  yet  made  its  criminal  law  as  humane 
as  that  of  Massachusetts  until  this  period."  f 
Until  this  time  the  laws  of  Boston  had  been 


*  See  the  account  of  Morton,  in  the  annals  of  the  time. 
t  Bancroft. 


NAOMI.  99 

the  unwritten  code  of  the  Christian  heart.  On 
that  beautiful  bay  no  blood  of  Abel  cried  out 
against-  his  brother,  till  the  Quakers,  whom  our 
fathers  called  the  children  of  the  Devil,  thrust 
themselves,  with  their  wild  blasphemies,  into  the 
midst,  to  try  men's  souls. 

Boston  had  never  since  its  foundation  been 
more  prosperous  than  at  this  time.  Cromwell 
had  favored  New  England.  Commerce  was 
flourishing  beyond  all  precedent ;  for  "  all  goods 
imported  to  or  from  Massachusetts  were  free 
from  all  custom,  taxation,  or  duty,  either  inward 
or  outward."  They  were  at  peace  with  the  In 
dians  ;  the  Pequots  had  been  subdued.  Charles 
had  returned  to  the  throne  of  his  fathers,  but 
Massachusetts  was  sufficiently  loyal.  They  did 
not  yet  tremble  for  the  loss  of  their  charter, 
or  for  fear  of  royal  governors.  It  seemed  as 
though  the  Quaker  irruption,  as  it  might  be 
called,  was  permitted  by  Providence  to  try  their 
souls,  to  see  how  far  prosperity  had  hardened 
their  hearts,  or  how  far  their  own  religious 
privileges  had  made  them  forgetful  of  the  con 
sciences  of  others.  On  this  clear  and  beautiful 
horizon-  we  have  just  sketched,  a  little  cloud 
arose,  "  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,"  but  it 
ascended  and  spread  till  it  enveloped  the  whole 
country  in  gloom. 


100  NAOMI. 

Naomi,  as  I  have  said,  was  charmed  with  the 
external  aspect  of  her  new  home.  She  had 
scarcely  been  there  two  weeks  when  she  as 
cended  the  steps  that  led  to  the  summit  of  Bea 
con  hill,  to  take  a  birdseye  view  of  the  whole 
environment.  When  she  looked  upon  the  bay, 
it  was  dotted  all  over  with  boats  passing  from 
Cambridge,  from  Charlestown,  Dorchester,  and 
from  various  other  points ;  for  this  placid  expanse 
of  water  was  not  then  covered  with  a  network 
of  bridges,  and  the  perpetual  passage  of  boats 
and  darting  of  the  Indian  canoe  gave  a  life  and 
animation  to  the  scene  quite  unknown  to  us. 
Beside  the  ferry-boats  constantly  passing  from 
point  to  point,  many  gentlemen  kept  boats  rowed 
by  their  own  servants,  and  had  they  been  gon 
dolas,  Boston  would  have  been  almost  a  min 
iature  Yenice.  If  the  water  was  alive,  the 
land-side  presented  to  Naomi  a  picture  of  beauti 
ful  repose  ;  —  the  flocks  and  herds  of  cattle, 
feeding  upon  the  lonely  meadows  of  Brookline, 
shaded  by  large  timber-trees,  with  scattered 
cottages  upon  the  rising  ground ;  the  town  of 
Roxbury,  clustering  around  its  rocks  and  nes 
tling  in  its  hills,  its  meeting-house  upon  a  con 
spicuous  height ;  the  modest  college  on  the  plain 
of  Cambridge ;  the  fresh-springing  husbandry 
and  peaceful  wigwams  of  the  Indians  at  Nonan- 


NAQMI.  101 

turn;  the  gracefully  eleyateci  ..land  jipoa'  the 
north,  now  known  as  Breed's,  Bunker,  and  Pros 
pect  hills  ;  the  full-swelling,  all-embracing  sea ;  — 
and  her  heart  bounded  with  exultation  and  grat 
itude.  She  saw  that  "  the  land  was  blessed  by 
the  blessing  of  Heaven  above,  and  the  blessing 
of  the  deep  beneath  j  blessed  by  the  dew  upon 
the  mountains,  and  the  deep  that  coucheth 
beneath.'' 

While  Naomi  stood  upon  the  summit  of  Bea 
con  hill,  the  shrill  sound  of  drums  and  fifes  rose 
upon  the  calm  air,  and  soon  the  more  emphatic 
voice  of  "  loud-babbling  guns  "  was  heard.  As 
she  descended  the  easier  slope  of  the  southern 
side,  she  saw  the  training-field,  or  common, 
covered  with  people.  The  "  great  artillery  com 
pany  "  was  in  the  field ;  also  many  other  com 
panies,  armed  with  firelock  or  pike.  It  was  one 
of  the  training-days,  so  frequent  in  the  early  part 
of  our  history.  Scarcely  any  condition  of  rank 
or  age  exempted  the  people  from  the  duty  of  be 
ing  thus  prepared  for  the  defence  of  their  families 
and  their  firesides,  when  Indian  foes  were  all 
around,  and  the  duty  of  protecting  the  country 
was  next  to  the  duty  of  worshipping  God. 

As  Naomi  passed  the  side  of  the  field,  separated 
from  her  only  by  a  fence  of  rails,  it  was  a  solemn 
and  impressive  sight ;  the  captain  of  each  com- 


102  NAOMI. 

.     *«*  »        t  »/'•••' 

pa&y  :h&d  Called .  his /soldiers  into  close  order, 
and,  with  every  head  bent  upon  a  pike  or  a 
musket,  each  was  at  prayer  at  the  head  of  his 
company.  As  the  murmur  of  their  voices 
reached  Naomi,  there  was  something  deeply  im 
pressive  and  beautiful  in  this  act  of  the  citizen 
soldiers,  in  arms  to  protect  their  homes  and  their 
country,  but  relying  upon  the  aid  of  a  higher 
power.  Prayer  preceded  and  followed  the  thun 
der  of  the  great  artillery.  Their  preparation  for 
battle  was  a  religious  preparation,  for  they  be 
lieved  themselves,  like  the  Israelites  of  old,  or 
dained  to  drive  out  the  heathen  before  them, 
and  to  take  possession  of  the  country. 

As  Naomi  naturally  hesitated  at  such  a  mo 
ment  to  cross  the  training-field  alone,  she  re 
traced  her  steps  in  order  to  pass  through  what 
is  now  called  School  Street,  to  her  home  in 
Washington  Street.  As  she  turned  into  School 
Street,  she  saw  an  immense  crowd  of  men,  boys, 
and  even  a  few  women,  filling  the  whole  breadth 
of  the  street,  around  a  guard  of  soldiers  with 
drums,  that  to  her  sounded  lugubrious,  like  the 
muffled  drum  of  death.  She  was  going  to  meet 
one  of  those  atrocious  processions  that  too  often 
disgraced  the  highways  of  the  country.  In  the 
midst  of  the  crowd  was  an  ox-cart  drawn  by  two 
oxen,  with  two  innocent  women  —  innocent  of 


NAOMI.  103 

every  thing  but  Quakerism  —  chained  to  the  tail 
of  the  cart,  the  sheriff  and  constable,  both  hon 
ored  men,  on  each  side,  with  knotted  whips, 
charged  to  inflict  the  disgraceful  torture  of  lac 
erating  the  unprotected  shoulders  of  these  wo 
men.  One  of  the  women  was  so  aged  that 
it  seemed  as  if  her  feeble  veins  could  scarcely 
spare  the  crimson  drops  that  followed  at  every 
lash  of  the  whip.  The  other  was  young  and 
fair.  Even  here,  in  this  most  horrible  exhibi 
tion  of  dark  bigotry  and  cruel  power,  a  touching 
circumstance  softened  it  to  the  eye,  while  it 
made  the  heart  swell  with  mingled  pity  and 
indignation.  The  young  husband  of  the  young 
er  victim,  himself  not  a  Quaker,  walked  close 
to  the  cart,  and,  while  his  face  was  ashy  pale 
and  tears  streamed  down  his  cheeks,  at  every 
stroke,  whenever  the  lash  descended,  he  inter 
posed  his  hat  and  his  arm  to  spare  the  tender, 
but  already  crimsoned,  'flesh  of  his  young  wife. 

Naomi  was  fain  to  enter  the  first  open  door, 
to  hide  from  her  the  too  horrible  scene.  An 
inexpressible  indignation  and  disgust,  mingled 
perhaps  with  fear,  caused  a  nervous  spasm,  that 
was  only  relieved  by  a  burst  of  tears. 

As -soon  as  the  terrible  procession  had  passed 
she  returned  to  her  home,  with  many  new  and 
painful  feelings  contending  in  her  breast.  Then 


104  NAOMI. 

came    the   most   distressing   of  all   doubts,   the 
doubt  whether  she  had  acted  rightly  in  coming 
to  America.     Ought  she  thus  to  have  thrust  her 
head  between  the  jaws  of  the  lion  ?     Ought  she 
not  to  have  avowed  the  difference  of  her  relig 
ion,  and  taken  the  consequences,  when  she  first 
arrived  ?      But  these  questions  arose  from   the 
depressed  state  of  her  mind.     She  had  obeyed 
the  voice  of  her  mother  and  of  her  own  heart 
in  coming,  and  it  was  in  consequence  of  the 
providence  of  God  that  she  was  left  alone  to 
bear  the   responsibilities  and    the  trials   of  her 
new  faith.     Her  heart  disavowed  that  stern  and 
severe  religion  of  the  Puritans  which  enjoined  per 
secution,  and  forbade  her  to  love  those  who  dif 
fered  from  her,  and  yet  she  could  never  partake 
of  or  excuse  the  extravagances  and  follies,  al 
most  the  blasphemies,  of  the  Quakers. 

She  felt  herself  alone, — alone  in  the  world  and 
alone  in  her  religious  faith,  —  for  she  could  not 
sympathize  or  mingle  with  those  who  professed 
the  same  faith  that  she  believed,  and  the  faith 
of  the  Puritans  repelled  all  the  sympathies  of  her 
soul.  "  For  what,  then,"  she  thought,  "  shall  I 
labor  to  purify  my  affections  and  elevate  my 
soul ;  why  should  I  strive  for  a  pure  conscience, 
for  principles  of  rectitude  and  courage,  for  gen 
erosity  and  love,  for  patience  and  calm  en- 


NAOMI.  105 

durance  ?  I,  who  am  alone  in  the  world,  and 
in  all  these  precious  attainments  can  find  no  sym 
pathy."  This  feeling  of  utter  loneliness  drew 
tears  down  her  cheeks ;  but  soon  the  skeptical 
hour  and  the  skeptical  thought  passed  away. 
"  God,"  she  thought,  "  is  knowledge  and  love. 
He  will  see  the  open  and  transparent  tablet  of 
my  heart ;  he  will  not  leave  me  always  alone. 
He  alone  has  seen  my  struggles ;  he  alone  knows 
the  purity  of  the  motives  that  have  influenced 
my  course." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

"  There  doth  exist 

A  beauty  boasting  a  perpetual  prime, 
That  the  destroyer's  scythe  has  ever  missed. 
Age  lays  no  wrinkle  on  its  fair  aspect, 
Its  sweet  complexion  ne'er  was  known  to  fade, 
It  steals  no  grace  from  gauds  wherewith  't  is  decked ; 
From  cunning  art  it  never  looks  for  aid. 
This  quality,  of  such  great  eminence, 
Hath  for  its  name  and  title  EXCELLENCE." 

THE  death  of  Naomi's  mother  had  totally 
changed  for  her  the  aspect  of  the  New  World, 
and  the  horizon  of  her  home.  Did  she  find  the 
solace  and  comfort  that  could  still  render  it  an 
agreeable  and  peaceful  retreat  ?  Her  step-father 
was  a  man  of  outward  forms,  not  of  genuine 
feeling.  Although  he  treated  her  with  all  ex 
ternal  respect,  Naomi  soon  discovered  that  he 
was  extremely  jealous  of  any  difference  in  opin 
ion  from  himself.  He  had  acquired  the  influ 
ence  he  possessed  in  a  certain  course  of  formal 
observances.  He  had  long  been  a  member  of 
the  k  church,  a  member  of  the  General  Court, 
always  at  his  post,  and  always  for  strenuous  and 
severe  measures,  —  a  careful  noter  and  shrewd 


NAOMI.  107 

discoverer  of  all  deviations  from  external  obser 
vances  of  morality.  He  made  long  prayers  to 
show  his  piety,  and  he  kept  the  Sabbath  strictly, 
because  he  was  a  member  of  the  church,  and 
would  have  lost  caste  otherwise.  He  deviated 
in  nothing  from  what  was  respectable  and  ex 
pected  in  that  community  whose  opinions  ruled 
his  life.  He  was  one  of  those  blocks,  squared 
and  polished  and  neatly  fitted  into  the  great 
building  of  the  commonwealth,  but  which  ad 
mitted  no  external  flaw  or  irregularity  where  the 
winds  of  heaven  could  lodge  a  chance  and  pre 
cious  seed,  to  spring  up  into  a  flower  to  adorn 
and  scent  the  surrounding  air. 

He  never  suspected  that  Naomi's  mind  was 
more  enlarged  and  nobler  than  his  own,  but  he 
felt  a  jealous  uneasiness  whenever  she  ventured 
to  differ  from  him,  and  an  obstinate  conviction 
that  she  must  be  wrong.  No  conception  had 
ever  entered  his  mind  of  that  all-pervading  love, 
that  could  enfold  all  opinions  within  a  divine 
philanthropy ;  that  could  soften  all  asperities, 
as  the  atmosphere  rounds  the  world  and  makes 
equal  the  rugged  mountain  and  the  lowly 
valley. 

Naomi  soon  found  there  could  be  no  confi 
dence  between  them  ;  even  friendship  could  not 
exist  upon  his  side,  for  he  was  totally  unable 


108  NAOMI. 

to  appreciate  the  nobler  qualities  of  her  mind, 
and  how  could  he  feel  friendship  for  a  person 
of  whom  he  was,  although  unconsciously,  jeal 
ous  lest  her  superiority  should  betray  his  narrow 
views  ?  She  could  only  live  peacefully  with 
her  father-in-law  (she  thanked  God  the  relation 
was  no  nearer)  by  never  expressing  an  opinion 
that  differed  from  his  own,  —  by  silencing  in  his 
presence  every  expanding  emotion,  every  gen 
erous  purpose, — by  locking  within  her  own 
heart  all  those  views  that  he  pronounced  vision 
ary  or  immoral. 

Mr.  Aldersey's  jealousy  of  his  own  authority 
in  the  smallest  things,  as  well  as  in  those  of  con 
sequence,  made  it  difficult  to  preserve  the  respect 
that  Naomi  thought  due  to  her  mother's  hus 
band.  His  will  was  as  absolute  in  the  fold 
of  a  curtain,  or  the  placing  of  a  chair,  as  in 
attention  to  the  Sabbath,  or  the  observance  of 
family  prayers.  He  had  a  good  deal  of  a  little 
mind,  and  entered  into  all  the  minutiae  of  family 
affairs,  bought  the  spices  for  his  family  and  the 
shoes  for  his  clerks,  attended  to  the  cutting  out 
of  the  clothes  of  men-servants,  and  censured 
the  dress  of  the  maids  in  his  family.  In  short, 
he  was  one  of  those  cold,  determined,  obstinate, 
yet  meddling  persons,  with  whom  it  is  hard 
to  live,  and  yet  difficult  to  assign  a  reason  for 
hating. 


NAOMI.  109 

Ruth,  the  little  daughter  of  her  mother,  was 
distinguished  only  as  a  pretty  and  lively  child ; 
she  had  now  attained  her  thirteenth  year,  and 
Naomi  had  accepted  the  charge  of  her  as  a 
sacred  legacy  from  that  dear  mother.  But  Ruth 
began  to  display  a  character  of  her  own,  that 
would  scarcely  yield  to  Naomi's  influence.  The 
little  girl  soon  found  that  she  possessed  an  as 
cendency  over  her  father,  merely  from  the  cir 
cumstance  of  being  his  own  daughter.  Pre 
cisely  in  proportion  as  a  thing  was  his  own, 
was  its  value  in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Aldersey.  His 
daughter  belonged  exclusively  to  himself.  She 
was  a  part  of  himself;  her  value  in  his  eyes  was 
greater  than  that  of  his  property,  his  farm,  his 
merchandise.  She  was  more  prized  than  any 
thing  except  himself,  his  standing  in  the  church, 
his  estimation  in  the  community.  Whatever 
faults  he  was  clear-sighted  enough  to  discern  in 
Ruth  were  scarcely  admitted  by  himself,  much 
less  avowed  to  others.  She  had  hitherto  disclos 
ed,  indeed,  only  the  faults  of  a  petted  child,  but 
she  now  began  to  display  a  strong  will  of  her 
own.  She  often  opposed,  and  even  stood  out 
against  the  mild  expostulations  of  Naomi,  and 
it  was  easy  to  see  that,  encouraged  by  her  fa 
ther,  she  would  soon  assume  a  position  in  the 
family  to  which  Naomi,  superior  as  she  was, 
would  yield. 

4 


110  NAOMI. 

Naomi  was  eminently  formed  to  inspire  love  ; 
there  was  in  her  a  tenderness  and  sympathy  for 
others,  a  sweetness  of  countenance  and  a  gentle 
tone  of  voice,  that  went  to  the  heart  of  those 
capable  of  appreciating  such  qualities.  They 
felt  that  she  was  not  a  person  to  whom  any 
flattery  could  be  offered,  or  any  homage  ex 
pressed,  except  that  of  the  silent  heart,  and  her 
own  humility  and  the  simplicity  of  her  char 
acter  prevented  her  from  perceiving  the  influ 
ence  her  noble  qualities  exerted.  With  trans 
parent  truth  on  every  feature,  she  stood  there 
in  her  pure  upright  self,  and  those  who  could 
appreciate  the  worth  of  her  character  would 
alone  adhere  to  her.  Ruth  loved  her  sister 
because  she  had  become  necessary  to  her.  She 
was  the  person  upon  whom  she  could  throw 
the  responsibility  of  her  actions,  and  make  her 
a  kind  of  external  conscience,  to  save  her  from 
the  inconvenience  of  governing  herself.  Naomi 
was  too  gentle  to  contend  with  her  sister.  Her 
moral  courage  was  great,  and  in  every  thing  in 
volving  a  principle  she  was  firm  as  a  rock  ;  but 
the  sensitiveness  of  her  organization  and  the 
sweetness  of  her  disposition  made  her  shrink 
from  every  harsh  contest,  and  yield  every  thing 
but  truth ;  her  influence,  therefore,  if  she  re 
tained  any  over  Ruth,  was  that  of  truthful  sim 
plicity  and  silent  example. 


NAOMI.  Ill 

There  was  still  another  person  upon  whom 
the  well-being  of  Naomi  in  her  father's  house 
greatly  depended.  This  was  Faith,  the  friend, 
rather  than  the  servant,  of  her  mother,  who 
nursed  her  in  her  illness,  and  upon  whom, 
after  her  death,  the  domestic  care  of  the  family 
devolved.  Faith  was  plain  in  her  person,  her 
features  rather  masculine,  and  her  complexion 
dark  and  sallow ;  but  with  all  these  disadvan 
tages  the  comfort  of  the  family  depended  on 
her.  We  often  hear  of  nature's  nobility  ;  Faith 
was  one  of  nature's  common  children,  but  she 
possessed  all  the  best  qualities  of  a  true  woman. 
The  influence  she  gained  over  every  one,  even 
over  Mr.  Aldersey  himself,  was  not  that  of  a 
strong  mind  over  a  weak  one,  but  it  was  that 
of  truth  and  love,  blended  in  just  proportions, 
and  acting  with  quiet  unostentation.  Faith, 
plain  in  person,  unattractive  in  feature,  was  the 
mental  stay,  the  source  of  contentment,  the 
sunlight  of  the  house  where  she  dwelt.  Her 
perpetual  cheerfulness  dispersed  all  gloom,  and 
in  all  the  embarrassments,  troubles,  and  perplex 
ities  that  arise  in  a  family,  she  was  the  ready 
recourse  ;  an  immediate  trust  was  felt  that  all 
would  go  right  as  soon  as  Faith's  transparent 
truth  and  strong  good-sense  were  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  subject.  She  was  the  only  per- 


1 12  NAOMI. 

son  to  whom  Mr.  Aldersey  was  ever  known  to 
yield  ;  not  because  she  assumed  authority,  —  she 
was  truly  humble,  —  but  because  he  saw  the 
good-sense  and  the  propriety  of  her  arrange 
ments. 

Naomi  could  soon  appreciate  and  sympathize 
with  such  a  character.  All  that  was  good  and 
noble  in  the  one  st>on  understood  and  loved 
what  was  good  and  noble  in  the  other ;  yet 
there  was  a  rich  and  unexplored  region  in  Na 
omi's  mind  that  Faith  could  not  penetrate,  as 
there  were  minutiae  of  disinterested  goodness 
in  Faith  to  which  Naomi  had  not  accustomed 
herself  to  descend.  Naomi's  aspiration  and 
thirst  after  something  different  and  better  were 
in  Faith's  view  a  distrust  of  Providence,  a  want 
of  faith  in  God,  who  would  in  his  own  time 
order  every  thing  for  the  best  good  of  all.  To 
Faith  the  world  was  good  enough.  Her  im 
agination  did  not  aspire  to  a  better,  till  the  mil 
lennium  or  heaven  arrived.  Injustice,  ingrat 
itude,  excited  her  grief  and  indignation,  but 
she  saw  in  them  beneficent  trials  for  the  faith 
and  patience  of  others.  Her  soul  was  amply 
fed  at  church,  and  at  family  prayers,  for  her 
own  grateful  and  devout  thoughts  accompanied 
the  pious  words  that  were  received  into  a  hum 
ble,  not  a  doubting,  heart.  She  could  gather 


NAOMI.  113 

honey  from  the  thistle,  and  never  observed  the 
hypocrisy  or  the  formality  of  others.  To  her, 
the  New  England  church  was  the  glory  of  the 
whole  earth.  She  had  no  time  for  lofty  spec 
ulations  or  ideal  aspirations  ;  her  strong  good- 
sense  acted  upon  the  things  of  the  actual  world 
around  her,  and  her  benevolence  was  busied  in 
devising  good  for  those  about  her  in  every-day 
life.  There  was  enough  in  the  well-worn,  path 
of  life,  she  thought,  to  employ  all  her  faculties 
to  keep  it  clear  of  thorns,  to  smooth  the  rough 
places  that  incommoded  the  feet  of  those  she 
loved  ;  when  we  were  furnished  with  wings, 
she  thought,  it  would  be  time  enough  to  find 
out  the  places  to  which  we  could  soar. 

The  health,  the  food,  the  warmth,  the  com 
fort,  of  every  member  of  that  household  was 
her  care  ;  for  herself  alone  she  was  never  busy. 
If  Faith  was  seen  warming  her  hands,  they 
knew  it  was  for  the  service  of  another ;  if  she 
wore  a  muff  in  cold  weather,  or  a  veil  in  warm, 
it  was  to  protect  some  other's  hands  and  face  ; 
in  all  excursions  upon  the  land  or  the  water, 
Faith  was  furnished  with  furs  and  cloaks,  not 
for  herself,  but  for  the  comfort  of  every  other. 
None  were  forgotten.  Beauty,  as  I  have  said 
before,  is  of  the  soul ;  and  for  those  who  could 
discern,  the  divine  rays  of  this  most  lovely  soul 
8 


114  NAOMI. 

penetrated  the  rougher  clay  in  which  it  was  en 
shrined,  so  that  Faith's  countenance  produced 
upon  them  the  effect  of  beauty,  and  was  seen 
with  a  lively  joy. 

The  poor  Indians  knew  her  well.  They 
called  her  their  little  mother.  To  their  un 
taught  perceptions,  the  queen  of  beauty  herself 
would  not  have  been  so  lovely  as  the  pale  and 
dark-featured  Faith.  They  well  understood  the 
homely  saying,  that  "  Handsome  is  that  hand 
some  does."  On  her  side,  the  Indians  were  all 
her  especial  care,  her  children.  She  was  too 
humble  to  be  aware  of  the  influence  exerted 
upon  the  educated  and  refined,  but  the  poor 
Indian  she  knew  she  could  instruct  and  aid. 
Faith's  good-sense  would  have  suggested  to  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Eliot,  their  faithful  evangelist,  that 
civilization  and  physical  comfort  should  have 
preceded  conversion ;  that  the  squaw  should 
have  made  the  wigwam  neat  before  she  attend 
ed  the  lecture,  and  should  have  been  taught  to 
make  her  garments  before  she  was  taught  to  pray. 

Between  Faith  and  Sambo  there  was  a  per 
petual  war  of  opinion,  on  account  of  the  In 
dians.  Sambo  felt  a  lofty  superiority  to  the 
whole  race  of  Indians.  He  seemed  to  regard 
them  as  a  sort  of  humble  attempt  at  imitation 
of  the  African,  —  a  caricature,  an  exaggeration 


NAOMI.  115 

and  perpetuation  of  certain  defects  of  which  he 
was  conscious  in  his  own  countrymen,  —  and 
he  felt  a  sort  of  indignant  contempt,  such  as 
some  great  author  or  painter  may  be  supposed 
to  feel  at  his  host  of  imitators,  lest  some  one 
should  come  so  near  to  his  excellences,  so  attain 
to  his  peculiar  distinctions,  as  to  be  mistaken  the 
copyist  for  the  original.  He  never  spake  of  the 
Indians  but  as  vermin,  inferior  to  dogs,  and  Faith, 
by  the  friendship  she  showed  them,  had  nearly 
lost  the  light  of  Sambo's  countenance,  and  the 
distinction  of  his  patronage.  He  was  in  perpet 
ual  fear  least  Naomi,  too,  should  be  misled  by 
Faith,  and  unable  to  note  the  distinctions  be 
tween  himself  and  the  Indians  that  would  es 
tablish  his  superiority. 

Mr.  Aldersey  kept  up  much  traffic  with  the 
Indians  for  costly  furs,  upon  which  he  made 
immense  profits.  It  was  for  his  interest  to  in 
duce  them  to  come  to  his  house,  and  the  chiefs 
were  always  invited  to  sit  at  his  table.  Before 
Naomi  arrived,  Mr.  Aldersey  kept  the  head  of  his 
own  table ;  but  he  had  now  placed  Naomi  there, 
and  the  Indians,  with  distinctive  politeness, 
sometimes  addressed  themselves  to  the  pale- 
faced  squaw. 

Naomi   felt   a   deep    interest   in   the    Indian 
squaws.      The  subdued  and  sad  expression  of 


I  I'-  NAOMI. 

the  himlenod  and  worn  creatures  went 
\n  her  heart.  She  never  failed  to  s< -e  ,md  ex 
press  h'T  interest  111  lln-iii,  v.'hi-n  lli<  y  r;iin<-  t«» 
see,  | he, i r  "little  mother."  IJelore  :,ln;  e;iiue,  to 
Illiot,  li;id  ohtnined  her  hi'.'h«-  I  ven 
;  and  when  she  r,;i.vv  l'';nlli  :  un<.inid«-d 
hy  the  hurnlile  cre;i.tures,  dispen:  in^  to  them  lh< 
hn-;id  of  life,  indeed,  in  her  Nimple  nr.inietions, 
••II  ;is  the  phy:  ic;d  <-<,\D  l«»i  I:,  lli'-y  so  !Te;illy 
need<'(|;  she  longed  ;d'.D  h»  IM  ;i 
m:.h  netoi  h>  tln-i;  Hinihle  sonl:  . 


(JIIAPTKR    IX. 

11    ;M:i:;   for   llinil   '     III.   ii    ,l.i\     i      •  .'.   I    . 
'I'll. -ii    lin-  ,  ;m-  .ml   IK. in  hill  .iii.l  niton'  , 
INo   Iliori'   tin    lln   MI    lli,     \vilil   .I.-. -i    I'.'im.l    , 

'Tin'  |il.iii"li  in  on  ilim  liuiitiiig-gmiinilN ; 

Tito  pnln  IIIHII'H  nxn  rin^s  throned  linn   \\ I   , 

Tin    |,.il,-  IIIMII'H  Hinl  sKmi:i  O'IT  lln'ir  lloo<ln  ; 
Tlim  |)l('iiNiint  npriii^H  .in-  ili\ 

IN  ;i .  ii;irr;i!  i\ e  llial  ;iinis  (<>  lie  a  desenpl  ion, 
;i  livinu;  pic.luro,  of  the  linn's  of  our  l.iili(  i.;, 
il  would  l»i-  -in  < 'in  i: MI >ii  linrdly  lo  lie  excused 
lo  Ic.-ivr  oiil  (lie  red  111:111  of  llic  lore;:!.  Anmii" 

ih<-   olijcr.t.s   of   int(!r(jhst    tlmt    onviroiH-d    IN.mini, 

(lie   Indi.ili:;    look    lilt;  d(U!j>csl    liold    lijion    her  mi 
;i"  nulion.       Helore    she    (i,;une,    slie    h;id    |»ichii<'d 
theni    to    luTscir,    r.njoy  m;1,    llie    siniplr    hie   ( <od 

ll.'ld  tf!V(MI  llirln,  d\\'rll  in;;  StU'llHily  Milder  Hie 
:.li;idn\v  oi  (heir  I'ocK;;;  l.'illlicli  Hi:;  linn  h.nl 
•  •;iil(ies  lljioll  (he  I  III  I  mleiil.  W.'IV'e;;  of  lh;il,  deep 
;iiid  wide  oee;iu  ;  (loalin^  upon  (lie  hosoiu  of 
tht'il1  linhlr.  river;;;  e|||i>yni"  MM  hill  hle.ssill!.',  ol 

a.    ualiiral    and     senlieul.    hie;     woishijipni!1,     lli< 
<ire.il   and  (iood   S|nnl,    Ilial    lliey    |.-|t   WUti  OVOry- 
wlieie  around    lliein,         in   lln-    me|V)  in  (lie    ibllU- 
lain,  ill  tho    leaf,  and    in    (he  cloud  ;   louring  <Uily 


118  NAOMI. 

the  evil  principle  opposed  to  the  good.  But 
now,  when  she  was  on  the  spot,  she  heard  of 
"  Christian  Indians,"  "  praying  Indians,"  and 
her  interest  was  excited  to  become  acquainted 
with  their  spiritual  father,  him  who  was  called 
their  Apostle. 

Naomi  had  already  seen  them  in  great  num 
bers,  as  the  Indian  women  often  gathered  in 
Mr.  Aldersey's  kitchen,  bringing  their  simple 
manufactures  of  buskins  wrought  with  porcu 
pine-quills,  birch  and  willow  baskets,  and  wam 
pum-belts,  to  exchange  for  little  comforts  for 
their  wigwams ;  but  she  wished  to  see  them 
more  nearly  in  their  civilized  and  Christian  state, 
in  their  village  at  Nonantum,  where  it  was  said 
they  had  learnt  agriculture  and  housekeeping, 
and  governed  themselves  by  laws  of  their  own 
making. 

In  order  to  see  them  under  the  best  aus.pices, 
she  wished  to  accompany  Mr.  Eliot,  the  evan 
gelist,  when  he  went  to  hold  one  of  his  lectures 
in  their  simple  wigwams.  Soon  her  wish  was 
gratified,  and  the  apostle  himself  came  to  pro 
pose  a  time  to  visit  his  new  converts.  The  per 
sonal  appearance  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Eliot  instantly 
won  the  attention  and  interest  of  those  who 
could  look  beneath  the  surface.  Small  in  stat 
ure  and  rather  plain,  his  countenance  was  wast- 


NAOMI.  119 

ed  and  worn  as  though  he  had  suffered  much 
privation  and  fatigue ;  but  his  eye,  deep-seated 
beneath  his  brow,  lighted  up  with  an  intense 
inward  fire,  or  melted  into  the  softest  expression 
of  tenderness  and  compassion.  Every  move 
ment  and  expression  of  that  rather  insignificant 
person  disclosed  an  unconquerable  energy,  and 
unwearied  and  never-yielding  constancy  of  pur 
pose  •  how  else  could  he  have  accomplished 
what  he  did  ?  Much  of  his  power  over  the 
wild  men  depended  upon  that  speaking  eye,  and 
upon  a  voice  capable  of  every  tone  that  pen 
etrates  the  heart.  Such  a  voice  is  a  direct  gift 
from  the  soul ;  no  art  can  imitate,  and  no  words 
describe,  its  power;  a  contemporary,  in  speaking 
of  this  voice,  said,  "  that,  when  he  opened  his 
lips,  they  were  like  Mary's  box  of  ointment  ; 
the  whole  room  was  filled  with  perfume."  His 
whole  appearance  showed  a  nervous  organiza- 
ticfn  and  a  tenderness  of  heart  opposed  to  the 
dogmas  of  his  creed.  The  spiritual  means  by 
which  he  strengthened  his  soul  to  bear  his 
almost  insupportable  labors  was  prayer,  often 
spending  whole  days  in  solitary  meditation  and 
fasting.  Great  reformers  of  every  age  have  thus 
furnished  themselves  with  spiritual  armor,  be 
fore  they  have  gone  forth  to  bless  and  instruct 
the  world. 


120  NAOMI. 

An  afternoon  in  October  had  been  fixed  upon 
for  Naomi  to  accompany  the  reverend  apostle  of 
the  Indians  to  Nonantum,  to  see  his  poor  converts 
and  listen  to  his  instruction  to  his  humble  chil 
dren.  It  was  one  of  those  cloudless  and  perfect 
days  of  which  we  have  so  many  in  our  New  Eng 
land  autumn,  with  the  temperature  of  June,  yet 
more  prized  than  June  itself,  because  the  even 
ing  approaches  earlier,  and  the  hours  of  sun 
light,  as  they  are  briefer,  are  more  precious. 

Immediately  after  the  early  dinner  of  that 
period,  the  party  proceeded  to  the  small  private 
wharf  where  Mr.  Aldersey's  boat  lay,  with  his 
own  servants  ready  to  take  the  oars.  Sambo 
had  at  first  begged  permission  to  be  left  behind, 
alleging  pressing  work  to  be  done  at  home. 
But  afterwards,  fearing  that  Naomi  might  re 
ceive  wrong  impressions  from  the  great  attention 
that  was  paid  the  Indians,  he  appeared  at  the 
thwart  ready  to  take  the  oar,  but  dressed  in  his 
most  exquisite  style.  Mr.  Aldersey  good-na 
turedly  excused  him  from  rowing,  perceiving 
the  impression  he  wished  to  make  upon  the 
Indians  by  the  superiority  of  his  dress,  and  told 
him  to  take  charge  of  the  cloaks  and  furs  that 
Faith  had  provided  for  their  return. 

They  left  the  town,  and  passed  on  their  course 
the  arable  fields  of  Muddy  River  (Brookline), 


121 

where  there  were  many  snug  farm-cottages,  and 
cattle  enjoying  the  late  pasturage  of  that  beauti 
ful  shore,  presenting  a  picture  of  repose  and 
fertility  that  forcibly  reminded  Naomi  of  the 
tranquil  homesteads  of  England.  Then  the 
Charles  became  narrower,  and  their  little  boat 
was  sheltered  by  the  overhanging  trees  of  its 
margin.  No  bridges  obstructed  their  progress 
till  they  landed  at  a  spot  where  now  spreads 
a  flourishing  town,  but  where  then  brooded  over 
the  whole  scene  the  silence  and  tranquillity  of 
an  unbroken  solitude.  A  little  further  on,  they 
came  to  the  plain  where  the  Indians  had  placed 
their  village  of  wigwams.  It  was  dotted  over 
with  trees,  and  intersected  by  a  winding  brook, 
while  all  around  this  cleared  space  of  corn 
fields  and  rude  gardens  the  unbroken  forest 
spread  its  protecting  arms. 

Mr.  Aldersey's  family  were  almost  the  earli 
est  upon  the  ground,  and  it  was  evident  the  In 
dians  were  preparing  for  some  unusual  and  ex 
citing  event.  As  Naomi  and  Faith  walked 
around,  and  glanced  into  some  of  their  wig 
wams,  the  chiefs  were  painting  and  preparing 
their  toilets  j  the  women,  also,  were  sweeping 
the  front  of  their  wigwams,  with  the  design 
of  assuming  an  exquisite  neatness.  When  the 
Indian  chiefs  issued  in  all  their  finery  from  the 


122  NAOMI. 

blankets  which  were  suspended  before  the  doors 
of  their  poor  birch-built  dwellings,  it  was  surpris 
ing  how  so  much  splendor  of  decoration  could 
be  applied  in  so  poor  a  habitation.  The  chiefs 
were  clad  in  robes  of  dressed  deer-skins  richly 
ornamented  with  colored  beads,  with  fringes,  and 
wampum-belts.  Plumes  of  different  birds  were 
arranged,  in  some  instances  with  great  symmetry 
and  taste,  to  form  an  imposing  head-dress,  and 
the  single  eagle's  feather  overshadowed  in  many 
more  the  horridly  painted  face.  The  women, 
on  the  contrary,  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
that  were  evidently  the  dusky  belles  of  the 
tribe,  were  without  ornament  in  dress  or  person, 
and  the  children  were  almost  or  quite  naked. 

As  different  parties  of  the  white  inhabitants 
arrived  and  strolled  around  their  village,  the  In 
dians,  both  men  and  women,  assumed  a  proud 
indifference  of  manner,  a  stolid  quietude  of 
mien  ;  even  Faith,  their  little  mother  and  warm 
hearted  friend,  was  received  with  cold  dignity. 
A  seat  was  brought  for  her,  indeed,  and  one  for 
the  pale-face  queen,  as  they  called  Naomi,  a  dis 
tinction  which  the  appearance  of  her  mental 
superiority  could  alone  have  induced,  for  her 
dress  was  inferior  in  gayety  or  richness  to  many 
there.  The  women,  meantime,  hushed  their  in 
fants  to  sleep,  and  the  men  lounged  in  various 


NAOMI.  123 

attitudes  of  stern  repose,  eyeing  their  visitors 
with  a  sullen  and  haughty  affectation  of  su 
periority. 

At  length  Mr.  Eliot  and  a  few  of  his  brethren 
appeared,  and  immediately  a  sort  of  quiet  bustle 
ensued.  They  had  ridden  from  Roxbury ;  and 
the  chiefs  hastened,  although  with  proud  and 
stately  steps,  to  relieve  them  of  their  horses, 
which  were  tethered  in  the  woods.  The  little 
bronzed  children  escaped  from  their  mothers 
and  clustered  around  the  good  man,  encouraged 
by  his  benevolent  smile  to  thrust  their  hands 
into  his  ample  pocket,  where  they  always  found 
the  apples  and  cakes  he  placed  there  for  this 
very  purpose.  The  secret  in  part  of  the  evan 
gelist's  influence  over  these  wild  children  of  na 
ture  was  his  attention  to  the  minute  details  of 
their  comfort,  his  exact  justice,  his  indulgent 
condescension  to  the  claims  of  the  lowliest 
squaw  and  the  youngest  child.  An  instance  of 
his  just  legislation  occurred  immediately  after 
he  came  on  the  ground. 

A  young,  athletic,  and  handsome  Indian  ap 
proached,  and  complained  that  his  wife  refused 
to  go  into  the  woods  and  bring  home  the  deer 
he  had  slain  for  their  food.  He  had,  he  said, 
done  his  part ;  he  had  killed  the  game,  and  it 
was  the  duty  of  every  squaw  to  bring  it  home, 


124  NAOMI. 

however  distant  it  might  lie  from  the  wigwam, 
and  to  dress  it  for  her  husband's  repast.  This 
in  the  laws  of  Indian  civilization  was  true,  and 
the  refusal  of  obedience  was  so  unusual  a  thing 
in  Indian  domestic  life  that  Mr.  Eliot  desired  the 
wife  might  be  called  to  answer  to  the  charge 
against  her. 

She  was  found  stretched  upon  a  mat  in  the 
wigwam  ;  but  she  came,  a  poor  young  creature, 
panting,  emaciated,  and  apparently  far  gone  in 
consumption.  Every  one  looked  on  in  pity. 
Mr.  Eliot  kindly  bade  her  take  up  one  of  the 
saddles  that  was  lying  on  the  ground  and  place 
it  on  the  nearest  horse.  The  poor,  humble  creat 
ure  obeyed ;  she  made  the  effort,  and  had  nearly 
got  the  saddle  raised  to  the  horse's  back,  when 
she  trembled,  staggered,  and  fell  back  fainting 
into  the  arms  of  one  who  stood  near.  Mr.  Eliot 
turned  and  looked  at  the  strong,  athletic  young 
Indian  who  had  brought  the  complaint.  It  was 
enough ;  he  slunk  away,  mortified  and  ashamed. 

The  assembly  of  Indians  and  whites  had  now 
increased  so  that  no  wigwam  was  sufficient  for 
their  accommodation.  It  was  therefore  suggest 
ed  that  the  sermon  should  be  preached  in  the 
open  air,  under  the  spreading  shelter  of  the 
noble  hemlocks  and  pines  that  abounded  in  the 
place.  It  now  became  a  scene  of  touching  and 


NAOMI.  125 

deep  interest.  The  venerable  Eliot  placed  him 
self  with  the  elders  ancl  teachers  upon  a  small 
eminence,  under  the  shadow  of  an  ancient  hem 
lock,  whose  deeply-dark  and  spreading  branches 
threw  an  imposing  shade  upon  the  noble  and 
serious  faces  of  the  pale  men,  contrasting  so 
strongly  with  the  brilliant  October  sunshine,  and 
heightening  their  striking  dissimilitude  with  the 
dusky  children  of  the  forest.  These  were  gath 
ered  round  in  peaceful  groups,  their  gaudy  and 
wild  garments  floating  in  the  air,  and  striking 
the  eye  in  lively  contrast  with  the  sombre  attire 
of  their  visitors  ;  their  dark  and  serious  faces  all 
turned  towards  the  apostle.  Upon  a  few  of 
these  bronzed  features  could  be  traced  the  vary 
ing  emotions  of  their  souls,  —  curiosity,  wonder, 
love.  —  while  others  retained  the  imperturbable 
stolidity  of  the  Indian,  and  turned  away  in  sul 
len  and  proud  indifference. 

Behind  the  groups  of  men  the  savage  women 
crouched,  in  attitudes  expressive  of  their  sense 
of  inferiority  to  their  lords,  their  meek,  subdued 
countenances  stamped  with  the  seal  of  patient 
endurance  and  humble  servitude. 

Outside  of  these  was  what  might  be  called 
the  congregation  of  the  whites,  collected  from 
different  motives  ;  some,  indeed,  with  contempt 
upon  their  countenances,  but  all  hushed  into 


126  NAOMI. 

serious  and  solemn  attention,  their  usual  and 
habitual  seriousness  at  *  all  religious  exercises 
heightened,  by  the  peculiar  scene  around  them, 
to  a  devout  reverence  ;  the  waving  trees,  with 
the  dirge-like  sound  of  the  wind  in  their  branch 
es,  the  echo  from  the  far-off  hills,  which  seemed 
like  the  voices  of  guardian  spirits  confirming  all 
that  was  said,  and  the  deep-blue  overhanging 
canopy,  the  eye  of  God  himself,  looking  down 
upon  them. 

Among  these  groups,  and  as  near  as  possible 
to  the  Indians,  were  Naomi  and  her  companions, 
with  Sambo  in  close  attendance.  Mr.  Aldersey 
had  joined  the  group  of  teachers  under  the 
hemlocks. 

The  reverend  Eliot  began  the  service  with  a 
prayer  in  English,  pronounced  with  the  deep 
pathos  of  that  voice  always  so  touching.  The 
wind  made,  as  it  were,  melodious  responses,  as 
it  stirred  the  reedy  branches  of  the  hemlock. 
Every  heart  was  touched  and  soothed,  and  the 
Indian  women,  although  they  understood  not  a 
word,  were  melted  into  tears.  How  appropriate 
was  the  text  that  he  chose  for  his  Indian  ser 
mon  !  —  "  Come  from  the  four  winds,  O  breath 
(or  spirit),  and  breathe  upon  these  that  they  may 
live  !  So  the  breath  came  unto  them  and  they 
lived  and  stood  upon  their  feet."  The  sermon 


NAOMI.  127 

was  very  long,  and  topics  drawn  from  every  ab 
struse  branch  of  theology  were  discussed  j  but  it 
was  listened  to  with  unflagging  attention.  When 
the  preacher  spoke  of  the  love  and  suffering  of 
the  Saviour,  the  Son  of  God,  mingled  pity,  and 
sorrow,  and  indignation  struggled  upon  the  up 
lifted  faces  of  the  women,  and  many  of  them 
wept  aloud.  This  seemed  to  show  the  kind  of 
preaching  they  needed  ;  not  the  abstruse  doc 
trines  of  Calvinism,  but  the  tender  love  of  the 
Gospel.  They  whose  souls  were  so  warm,  so 
tender,  so  quickly  excited  to  love,  so  easily 
melted  to  pity,  —  would  not,  under  such  instruc 
tion,  the  native  rock  of  the  Indian  have  been 
covered  with  the  rich  bloom  of  wild-flowers  ? 
But  now  they  have  passed  away  with  the  wind 
that  breathed  upon  them  ;  no  trace  of  their  foot 
prints  is  left. 

After  the  sermon  took  place  the  burial  of 
a  little  Indian  child.  The  father  of  the  child 
wished  it  to  be  in  the  English  mode,  and  had 
himself  made  a  coflin,  and  invited  his  friends  to 
follow  in  procession.  The  mother  consented, 
although  she  could  not  forego  the  Indian  cus 
tom  of  dressing  the  little  emaciated  body  in  all 
the  finery  it  had  worn  upon  gala-days.  About 
forty  Indians  followed  in  procession,  in  solemn 
silence,  without  their  powwows  and  noise  ;  the 


128  NAOMI. 

men  with  stern,  composed,  and  solemn  faces, 
the  women  silent,  with  their  eyes  cast  down, 
except  the  poor  mother,  from  whose  lips  at  every 
moment  a  stifled  groan  burst  forth.  At  the  little 
grave  the  father  prayed  in  their  own  Indian  lan 
guage,  and  then  each,  as  he  silently  turned  away, 
threw  a  handful  of  earth  upon  it.  The  mother 
only  stood  in  mute  sorrow,  and  would  not  leave 
the  grave  till  the  turf  was  again  placed  ove'r  her 
dead  treasure. 

Naomi  had  been  attracted  to  the  spot ;  she 
looked  in  silence  into  the  grave  ;  there  lay  the 
little  bow  and  arrow  by  his  side,  and  a  small 
gourd  at  the  head  of  the  coffin.  Naomi  respect 
ed  the  mother's  grief,  but  she  ventured  to  ask 
why,  as  she  had  buried  her  child  in  a  coffin, 
after  the  English  fashion,  she  placed  his  bow 
and  arrow  by  his  side. 

"  How  should  I  know  my  brave  boy,"  she 
answered,  "  in  the  happy  hunting-grounds,  if  he 
had  not  his  bow  and  his  arrow  ?  He  will  be  a 
chief  and  not  a  squaw  in  the  blessed  hunting- 
grounds,  and  how  should  I  know  him  again 
without  his  bow  and  his  arrow  ?  " 

The  little  procession  turned  aside  into  a  thick 
grove,  and  there  they  lifted  up  their  voices  and 
wept  aloud,  as  they  prayed  in  their  own  lan 
guage.  Naomi  also  wept  with  them ;  —  the  pray- 


NAOMI.  129 

that  comes  from  a  bereaved  mother's  heart  car 
ries  with  it  the  sympathy  of  every  other  heart. 

A  different  scene  was  taking  place  in  another 
part  of  the  Indian  village.  A  powerful  sachem 
of  one  of  the  tribes  had  listened  with  scorn  and 
contempt  to  Eliot's  preaching,  and  before  it  was 
finished  withdrew,  anger  and  revenge  burning  in, 
his  breast ;  and  as  he  withdrew  he  carried  with 
him  several  of  the  bravest  of  his  tribe.  He  had 
two  subjects  of  complaint  and  offence  ;  one  was 
that  the  "  praying  Indians  "  had  refused  to  pay 
him  the  usual  tribute  ;  and  the  other,  that  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Eliot  had  preached  much  against  the 
sin  of  a  plurality  of  wives.  He  felt  deeply 
under  this  censure,  having  just  taken  a  second 
young  wife,  although  his  elder  squaw  had  ever 
been  a  faithful  and  devoted  spouse.  The  apos 
tle  had  before  taken  occasion  to  admonish  him 
in  private,  but  to-day  in  his  sermon  he  took  the 
opportunity  to  enlarge  very  powerfully,  and,  as 
the  sachem  thought,  much  too  personally,  up 
on  this  great  sin  of  the  chiefs. 

After  the  sermon  was  ended,  he  approach 
ed  Mr.  Eliot,  and  with  violent  and  imperi 
ous  gesture  declared  that  the  apostle  should 
never  set  foot  again  within  his  village.  The 
savages  trembled  at  the  anger  of  their  chief, 
and  began  to  slink  away  and  hide  themselves 
9 


130  NAOMI. 

like  guilty  creatures.  But  Mr.  Eliot,  without  be 
traying  weakness  or  inferiority,  answered,  with 
the  promptest  resolution  and  calm,  unblenching 
firmness,  that  he  should  do  the  work  of  the 
Great  Spirit  that  he  was  sent  to  do,  and  that  he 
neither  feared  him  nor  any  thing  that  he  could 
do.  The  savage  could  not  stand  before  the 
firm  and  kindling  eye  of  the  apostle  ;  he  cow 
ered  beneath  its  sacred  light,  and  the  tribe  again 
crowded  around  their  teacher. 

When  Mr.  Eliot  took  leave,  the  chief  followed 
him,  and  stated  the  difficulties  of  his  situation. 
The  apostle  treated  him  kindly,  and  spoke  aside 
with  Governor  Endicott,  who  was  just  mount 
ing  his  horse  to  ride  back  with  him  to  Roxbury. 
"  The  thing  shall  be  looked  into,"  the  governor 
said,  "  and  the  teachers  shall  discourse  upon  it 
and  give  them  the  true  doctrine  at  the  next  lec 
ture."  Then,  turning  to  the  Indians,  he  cour 
teously  invited  them  all  to  come  next  Thursday 
to  the  lecture,  when  the  ministers  should  deal 
with  them. 

The  chiefs  now  with  stately  gravity  took 
leave,  and  Eliot  and  his  friends  pursued  their 
way,  through  bridle-paths  in  the  woods,  to  their 
respective  homes. 

In  another  part  of  the  ground  almost  a  ludi 
crous  scene  was  taking  place.  Sambo  had  in- 


NAOMI.  131 

volved  himself  in  a  dispute  with  one  of  the 
dusky  belles,  that  amounted  almost  to  a  quarrel, 
—  Sambo,  usually  so  good-humored  and  tranquil. 
I  have  before  mentioned  his  extreme  jealousy 
of  the  Indians,  and  the  superiority  he  himself 
assumed  over  them,  as  though  their  grand  and 
noble  forms,  their  firm,  upright  tread  and  heav 
enward  bearing,  were  but  a  caricature  of  the 
African  race. 

The  Indian  belle,  to  get  rid  of  the  impor 
tunity  of  his  too  polite  attentions,  told  him  that 
his  little  mother,  meaning  Faith,  wanted  him. 
"  Run,"  said  the  girl,  "you  dare  not  disobey." 

Sambo  indignantly  scorned  the  idea  of  stand 
ing  in  that  relation  to  Faith,  or  in  any  relation 
that  implied  obedience."  The  housekeeper,  he 
said,  was  no  mother  of  his,  and  he  scorned  to 
obey  any  woman  except  Miss  Omai. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Indian  girl,  "  I  guess  the 
little  mother  better  to  you  than  your  own 
mammy,  for  when  you  were  a  little  pappoose 
swinging  on  the  great  tree,  she  let  her  little 
piccaninni  fall  and  spoiled  his  nose  "  ;  and  she 
burst  into  a  laugh,  and  held  up  the  palm  of  her 
hand  to  imply  that  his  face  was  as  free  from 
protuberance  as  her  own  hand. 

Sambo's  indignation  knew  no  bounds.  His 
complexion  changed  to  the  color  of  a  deep 


132  NAOMI. 

purple  plum,  where  the  crimson  juice  is  seen 
ready  to  burst  its  dark  envelope.  To  be  in 
sulted  thus  openly  was  more  than  the  meekest 
spirit  could  bear.  But  at  this  moment  Naomi 
and  Faith  appeared.  He  smothered  his  griefs 
and  followed  them  from  the  village. 

The  sun  had  now  sunk  behind  the  forest,  and 
was  but  a  half-hour  from  its  setting.  The  crim 
son  rays  shot  beneath  the  boughs  and  touched 
the  old  trunks,  and  played  in  variegated  light 
upon  the  rich  embroidery  of  the  mossy  stems, 
and  the  deeper  green  of  little  opening  vistas 
was  lighted  up  with  emerald  brilliancy.  Above 
the  forest  was  diffused  a  pale  tint  of  orange, 
and  a  faint  hue  of  apple-green,  so  beautiful  in 
the  autumn  sunsets  of  this  climate  ;  and  these 
gradually  changed  into  deep,  dark  blue  and  the 
violet  shades  of  the  eastern  horizon. 

Naomi  and  the  friends  who  accompanied  her 
sought  their  boat.  A  western  breeze  had  sprung 
up,  the  sail  was  spread,  and  the  oarsmen  rested 
idly  upon  their  oars.  The  full  harvest  moon 
now  rose  over  those  broad  and  tranquil  waters. 
As  the  planet  rose  higher  in  the'  heavens,  she 
hung  like  a  perfect  ball  of  light,  moving  among 
heaps  of  fleecy  clouds  that  sometimes  obscured 
her  wholly,  and  then,  like  snowy  wreaths  of 
vapor  or  islands  of  fleece,  received  her  in  their 


NAOMI.  133 

bosom.  Deep  silence  was  in  that  solitary  boat ; 
Naomi  was  reflecting  upon  the  scene  she  had 
witnessed,  and  the  others  were  overcome  with 
fatigue.  The  moon  touched  the  humble  roofs 
of  the  cabins  along  the  shore,  and  glanced  in 
mysterious  change  of  light  and  shadow  among 
the  trees  that  hung  over  the  margin  of  the  river 
along  which  they  glided.  The  profound  mel 
ancholy  of  the  scene  cannot  be  expressed  in 
words,  —  the  unbroken  solitude  of  a  scene  now 
over-peopled  and  alive  with  human  activity. 
No  busy  commerce,  no  thronged  wharves,  no 
clustering  houses,  crowded  the  land  upon  the 
water.  The  soul  was  alone  with  nature.  As 
they  passed  the  sylvan  shores  of  Brookline,  the 
lofty  trees  formed  islands  of  floating  shadow 
upon  the  grass,  where  the  cattle  reposed  in 
groups,  and  their  startled  guardians,  the  watch 
dogs,  broke  the  repose  of  the  night  as  the  sound 
of  the  oars  awoke  the  echoes  upon  land. 

The  boat  at  length  touched  the  little  wharf. 
Naomi  went  to  her  pillow  with  peaceful  and 
tranquil  emotions.  Her  visit  to  the  Indian  vil 
lage  had  been  the  most  purely  congenial  scene 
she  had  witnessed  in  New  England. 


CHAPTER   X. 

"  O,  doubly  lost !  oblivion's  shadows  close 

Around  their  triumphs  and  their  woes. 

Nor  lofty  pile,  nor  glowing  page, 

Shall  link  him  to  a  future  age, 

Or  give  him  with  the  past  a  rank  ; 
His  heraldry  is  but  a  broken  bow, 
His  history  but  a  tale  of  wrong  and  woe  ; 

His  very  name  must  be  a  blank."  —  SPRAGUE. 

THURSDAY,  the  day  of  the  lecture,  had  now 
arrived  ;  the  day  on  which  the  Indians  were  to 
present  themselves  in  the  assembly  of  the  pale 
faces,  to  be  taught  their  duty  both  with  regard 
to  paying  tribute  to  the  sachem  and  the  domes 
tic  custom  that  touched  them  so  nearly,  the 
plurality  of  wives.  The  children  of  the  forest 
had  been  frequently  seen  at  the  lecture,  but 
to-day  they  were  to  appear,  as  it  were,  in  their 
national  character,  and  much  importance  was 
attached  to  the  event.  Cutshamakin,  although 
he  understood  no  English,  was  to  make  his  ap 
pearance  to  protest  against,  or  to  interpret  in 
his  own  wild  way,  the  solemnity  of  the  scene. 

The  Thursday  Lecture  was  usually  crowded, 
for  there  were  other  incentives  offered  to  those 


NAOMI.  135 

who  dwelt  in  the  neighbouring  towns  beside 
that  which  was  always  paramount,  hearing  the 
preached  word,  to  visit  Boston  on  Thursday  ; 
even  the  people  of  Salem,  some  of  them  trav 
elling  on  foot,  were  sure  to  be  at  the  Thursday 
Lecture.  It  was  their  weekly  market-day,  and 
the  good  people  of  Boston  have  ever  shown 
themselves  willing  to  unite  the  pursuit  of  an 
honest  gain  with  a  devout  exhibition  of  religious 
observances. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  repose  of  the  little 
town  was  broken  by  the  rumbling  of  carts  from 
the  country,  and  the  arrival  of  countrymen  on 
horseback  with  well  filled  saddle-bags,  contain 
ing  their  domestic  manufactures  of  cloths  from 
the  family  loom,  shoes  from  the  farmer's  win 
ter  work-bench,  cheeses  and  butter,  the  gen 
erous  produce  of  new  and  rich  pastures.  Cattle 
and  sheep,  calves  and  swine,  were  sold  in  the 
same  market,  so  that  the  little  market-place  soon 
presented  a  crowded  and  animated  scene  of 
bustle  and  lively  interest.  At  eleven  o'clock 
the  weekly  holiday  began  at  the  schools,  and 
the  exuberant  spirits  of  Boston  boys,  eman 
cipated  from  the  restraint  of  six  days,  added 
to  the  general  activity.  Holiday  and  lecture- 
day  were  then  synonymous  terms.  How  wide 
apart  are  now  the  associations  connected  with 


136  NAOMI. 

each  !  It  is  long  since  the  descendants  of  the 
Pilgrims  looked  upon  a  lecture  as  a  holiday 
affair,  and  since  the  blessed  anticipation  of  the 
pleasures  of  a  holiday  included  the  hearing  of 
a  lecture. 

At  twelve  o'clock,  immediately  after  the  early 
dinner  of  that  period,  all  hastened  and  crowded 
to  the  sanctuary  for  the  refreshment  of  the 
Thursday  Lecture.  The  praying  Indians  were 
already  there,  and  had  had  places  assigned  them 
in  front  of  the  ministers  ;  they  were  to  be  ad 
dressed  as  those  who  had  refused  to  pay  tribute 
to  the  sachem. 

The  first  prayer  had  been  made,  and  the  sing 
ing  of  the  hymn  was  nearly  over,  when  a  great 
bustle  ensued  at  the  door.  It  was  thrust  wide 
open,  and  Cutshamakin,  with  his  interpreter  and 
his  two  wives  following  at  a  little  distance, 
advanced  with  haughty  gesture  and  imperious 
step  and  placed  himself  in  an  attitude  of  com 
mand  before  the  ministers  and  people.  Seats 
were  offered  him,  but  he  waved  his  hand  for 
the  service  to  proceed,  and  remained  standing 
erect  and  haughty,  while  his  wives  modestly 
bent  their  heads,  as  though  impressed  with  awe 
and  shame. 

The  audacity  of  the  chief  drew  all  eyes  upon 
him  ;  tall,  erect,  and  haughty,  with  his  splendid 


NAOMI.  137 

head-dress  of  eagle's  feathers,  his  mantle  of 
deer-skin  that  swept  the  ground,  trimmed  with 
gay  fringes  of  colored  beads,  his  tomahawk  in 
his  girdle,  his  bow  and  arrows  in  his  hand, 
while  upon  his  countenance  could  be  seen  the 
varying  expression  of  scorn,  contempt,  and 
anger,  changing  to  exultation  and  triumph  as 
the  interpreter  repeated  to  him  in  a  whisper  the 
purport  of  the  sermon  upon  that  command  of 
the  Saviour  to  render  unto  Caesar  the  things 
that  belonged  to  Csesar,  the  claim  of  the  sa 
chem  to  tribute  being  completely  established. 

The  other  offence  seemed  almost  to  find  its 
apology  in  the  presence  of  the  two  wives.  The 
one  extremely  youthful,  the  last-chosen  of  the 
sachem,  might  have  been  the  daughter  of  the 
chief,  and  if  she  had  been  bent  on  the  con 
quest  of  the  youths  of  the  pale  faces,  she  could 
not  have  adorned  herself  with  more  coquetry. 
Her  mantle,  of  fine  deer-skin  wrought  in  col 
ors,  was  snowy  white,  her  ear-rings  and  brace 
lets  of  silver,  and  the  tablet,  as  our  fathers  called 
the  ornament  which  she  wore  upon  her  breast, 
was  gay  with  tinsel,  and  stones,  and  beads.  She 
wore  silver  rings  upon  her  well-formed  ankles, 
and  open  buskins  that  displayed  their  grace 
ful  shape. 

The  other  wife  was  perhaps  thirty,  but  the 


138  NAOMI. 

hours  and  days  of  heavy  toil  to  which  the  In 
dian  squaws  were  condemned  had  brought  upon 
her  a  premature  old  age.  She  wore  no  orna 
ment,  and  scarcely  lifted  her  eyes  to  her  hus 
band's  face ;  but  she  pointed,  while  tears  stream 
ed  down  her  cheeks,  to  a  young  Indian  boy 
and  his  sister  who  had  silently  followed  her 
into  the  assembly,  as  though  she  would  have 
said,  "  These  are  my  jewels." 

Here  was  a  case  that  puzzled  the  ministers 
and  teachers  ;  and  it  seems  that,  though  they 
were  eloquent  against  the  sin  of  polygamy,  they 
could  not  come  to  any  decision  which  wife 
should  be  put  away ;  the  judgment  was  therefore 
deferred  to  another  time. 

How  singular  does  the  whole  transaction  ap 
pear  to  us  now,  and  how  deeply  is  it  tinctured 
with  the  spirit  of  the  times !  It  seems  as  if  a 
few  hours  of  investigation  of  two  or  three  sen 
sible  men  might  have  settled  the  whole  affair 
of  paying  tribute,  and  that  only  great  ignorance 
of  human  nature  could  make  our  fathers  believe 
that  a  sermon,  however  eloquent,  could  unlink 
the  chain  that  bound  an  Indian  to  his  wife. 
The  ministers  were  accustomed  to  address  the 
people  at  the  Thursday  Lecture  upon  those  del 
icate  questions  of  morality  that  did  not  come 
within  the  cognizance  of  the  laws  or  the  Gen- 


NAOMI.  139 

eral  Court,  but  were  subject  to  the  control  of 
public  opinion.  This  Thursday  Lecture  seemed 
to  exercise  the  same  kind  of  influence  as  that 
of  the  public  press  at  the  present  day  ;  but  the 
poor  Indian  did  not  half  understand,  and  could 
not  submit  himself  to  its  control. 

With  reverence  and  humility,  such  as  be 
come  us  in  speaking  of  Eliot,  that  faithful,  self- 
devoted  apostle,  that  zealous,  truth-inspired 
evangelist,  that  martyr  to  an  unfruitful  but 
holy  cause,  may  we  not  suggest  that  the  the 
ology  he  taught  these  simple  children  of  nature 
was  incomprehensible  to  their  minds,  distasteful 
to  their  hearts  ?  that  the  civilization  he  endeav 
oured  to  bring  about  was  disproportioned  and  in 
advance  of  their  wants  ?  A  perfect  mixture 
with  the  pale  faces  could  alone  have  produced 
that  gradual  civilization  that  would  have  been 
permanent.  They  should  have  been  induced 
to  love  their  masters,  and  then  they  might  have 
wished  to  be  like  them.  But  the  whites  were, 
except  a  few,  too  disdainful  of  them  to  perceive 
their  true  wants,  or  the  value  of  the  savage  vir 
tues,  the  simple  'religion,  they  already  possessed. 

There  was  also  an  immobility  in  the  Indian 
character  that  made  them  averse  to  civilization. 
Like  the  Jews  of  old,  they  could  hot  be  moulded 
by  others,  they  could  not  adopt  strange  customs. 


140  NAOMI. 

They  remained  ever  attached  to  their  wild  life 
and  their  hunting-grounds  ;  the  moccason  was 
dearer  than  the  shoe,  the  blanket  than  the  coat. 
The  Indian  could  not  confine  his  wants  to  the 
little  inclosure  around  his  wigwam,  however 
fruitful  it  might  be  in  corn  and  potatoes  ;  his  step 
was  on  the  mountain-side,  his  path  through  the 
mountain  torrent.  His  cabin  gave  him  no  room 
to  breathe,  —  scarcely  could  he  have  breathed 
in  a  cathedral ;  the  wide  forest  and  the  prairie, 
with  the  Great  Spirit  near  him,  made  his  dwell 
ing-place.  One  by  one  they  perish,  like  the 
leaves  of  the  forest  that  are  swept  away  by  the 
autumn  winds  ;  melancholy  shrouds  them  ;  they 
die  of  sadness,  and  are  effaced  from  the  earth  by 
an  inexorable  destiny. 


CHAPTER   XL 

"  'T  is  winter's  jubilee  ;  this  day 

His  stores  their  countless  treasures  yield; 
See  how  the  diamond-glances  play, 

In  ceaseless  blaze,  from  tree  and  field  ! 
A  shower  of  gems  is  strewed  around,  — 
The  flowers  of  winter  rich  and  rare  ; 
Rubies  and  sapphires  deck  the  ground ; 
The  topaz,  emerald,  all  are  there." 

ANDREWS  NORTON. 

IN  such  amusements  as  I  have  described,  or 
rather  in  such  devout  occupation,  the  autumn 
passed  away.  The  gorgeous  array  of  the  au 
tumn  foliage  had  fallen  to  the  ground,  and  the 
trees  stood  around  the  common  and  upon  the 
heights  of  Roxbury  and  Dorchester  in  all  the 
beauty  of  the  intricate  interlacing  of  their  bare 
branches  and  twigs,  clearly  designed  upon  the 
amber  of  the  evening  sky.  These  closely-reefed 
trees  possess  a  beauty  of  their  own  that  seems 
to  bid  defiance  to  any  further  changes  of  season ; 
and  yet  a  snow-storm  arrays  them  in  a  fairy 
loveliness  that  for  a  moment  surpasses  their 
summer  beauty.  Naomi  had  watched  with  con 
stantly  increasing  interest  the  changes  of  the 
autumn,  from  the  first  pale  amber  and  vivid  red 


142  NAOMI. 

of  the  maple-leaf  to  the  rich  and  uniform  brown 
tint  of  the  forests,  till  all  were  swept  away  by 
November  gales,  and  the  sunbeams,  freely  ad 
mitted,  checkered  the  embroidered  ground  with 
light  and  shadow,  and  the  deep  blue  harvest  sky 
rested  over  all. 

A  snow-storm  occurred  in  the  beginning  of 
winter,  succeeded  by  rain  and  a  sharp  frost,  and 
the  next  day  the  sun  arose  upon  a  world  that 
had  been  turned  as  by  enchantment  into  a  frost 
work  of  precious  stones,  of  diamonds,  and  gems. 
How  many  pens  have  been  employed  to  de-y 
scribe  a  scene  like  this !  and  all  have  failed  as 
completely  as  though  a  mortal  painter  were  to 
dip  his  brush  in  dew  to  paint  the  varying  glories 
of  sunrise.  Shall  I,  then,  presumptuously  make 
the  attempt  ?  No  !  The  transforming  power  of 
that  invisible  magician,  Frost,  must  be  seen  ;  one 
must  see  to  believe  that,  like  Aladdin's  lamp,  it 
can  transform  the  most  homely  objects  into  the 
most  precious  and  gorgeous.  A  pigsty  becomes 
a  fairy  palace  j  an  Indian  wigwam,  a  huge  cor 
onet  of  diamonds ;  every  twig  of  every  tree 
is  hung  with  a  wreath  of  colored  jewels ;  the 
fences,  the  bushes,  become  delicate  frostwork 
of  molten  silver,  hung  with  crystals  polished 
beyond  the  art  of  man. 

To  those  who  had  been  long  in  the  country 


NAOMI.  143 

this  was  no  surprising  nor  exciting  scene  ;  but 
it  was  new  to  Naomi,  and  she  was  eager  to  ob 
serve  this  unique  species  of  beauty.  Early  in 
the  morning  she  engaged  Ruth  to  accompany 
her  in  a  walk  across  the  isthmus,  or  Neck.  Upon 
the  surface  of  the  snow  there  was  a  thin  coating 
of  transparent  ice,  glittering  in  the  sunshine 
with  myriads  of  brilliants,  and  sown  thickly 
with  larger  diamonds.  The  air  was  sharp,  but 
elastic,  and  the  deep  blue  sky  without  a  single 
cloud. 

The  first  objects  of  interest  to  the  pedestrians 
were  the  picturesque  little  tents  of  the  smelt- 
fishers,  made  of  a  single  blanket  or  rug  thrown 
over  crossed  poles,  merely  to  defend  the  fishers 
from  the  wind ;  and  they  promised  themselves 
to  go  again  in  the  evening,  when  the  fires  would 
be  kindled,  that  would  transform  these  ragged 
blankets  into  tents  of  silver. 

As  they  proceeded,  they  remarked  objects  no 
less  homely,  but  -made  picturesque  by  the  eye 
that  has  the  power  of  discerning  beauty.  Huge 
sleds,  loaded  to  an  enormous  height  with  the 
prostrate  giants  of  the  forest,  approached  slowly, 
seen  at  a  great  distance  by  the  moist  breath  of 
the  poor,  laboring  beasts  curling  up  in  the  keen 
morning  air,  and  colored  with  rainbow  hues. 
As  they  drew  near,  they  saw  the  rime  around 


144  NAOMI. 

their  wide-distended  nostrils  and  the  muzzles 
of  the  poor  beasts  hung  with  wreaths  of  bril 
liants.  Each  ponderous  load  was  but  a  single 
magnificent  tenant  of  the  forest,  brought  down 
by  the  axe  of  those  who  first  penetrated  the 
untrodden  solitudes  with  such  a  little  instru 
ment.  There  the  splendid  tree  had  counted, 
ah,  how  many  centuries  !  Unharmed  by  wintry 
storms,  by  the  lightning,  the  raging  tempest, 
it  had  spread  its  wide,  protecting  arms  to  shelter 
the  wild  beast  and  the  wilder  man,  and  myriads 
of  sentient  beings  had  found  life  and  protection 
in  its  branches.  The  squirrel  had  leaped  from 
twig  to  twig  ;  the  little  singing-birds  had  shel 
tered  their  nests  under  the  green  tent  of  its 
leaves  ;  millions  of  creeping  things  had  nestled 
and  fed  on  its  bark  ;  innumerable  ephemera  had 
led  the  intricate  dance  through  long  long  sum 
mer  days  under  its  shadow  ;  the  wild  deer  had 
lain  securely  beneath  its  shelter ;  the  shining 
speckled  snake  had  hid  in  the  thick  grass  around 
its  trunk  ;  the  timid  rabbit  had  sipped  the  morn 
ing  dew  upon  its  turfed  roots  ;  and  now  that 
little  shining  blade  had  laid  its  world  of  life, 
and  its  honors  gathered  for  centuries  there  in 
lonely  majesty,  low  in  the  dust. 

It  required  science  to  heap  up  and  nicely  bal 
ance  these  ponderous  loads  of  fuel.      First,  at 


NAOMI.  145 

the  foundation  was  laid  the  enormous  trunk,  cut 
into  equal  lengths  and  laid  with  care  ;  then  fol 
lowed  the  wide-spread  arms,  also  squared,  and 
measured,  and  nicely  adjusted  ;  upon  these  were 
piled  the  lighter  branches,  shorn  of  their  myriad 
twigs,  which  last  were  heaped  high,  and  truly 
balanced  upon  the  top  of  all.  Thus  each  load, 
with  its  guardian  and  its  patient,  much-endur 
ing  beasts,  slowly  plodding  over  the  frozen 
road,  carried  comfort  and  cheerfulness  to  the 
firesides  of  our  fathers,  who  in  their  early  set 
tlement  found  these  noble  forest-friends  their 
best  and  truest. 

As  Ruth  and  Naomi  advanced,  they  heard 
echoing  all  around  the  sturdy  strokes  of  the 
woodman  in  different  parts  of  the  forest,  and  the 
familiar  whistle  that  called  back  their  straying 
dogs.  How  different  from  the  whistle  of  the 
engine,  or  the  throbbing  of  the  rail-car  !  How 
changed  the  scene  !  Then  a  nearly  unbroken 
forest  shut  in  the  horizon.  A  little  clearing 
might  then  have  been  made  in  the  woods  near 
a  running  stream,  with  which  they  were  so  rich, 
and  a  mill-wheel  placed  over,  which  in  summer 
dashed  the  limpid  treasure  of  the  rocks  in  spark 
ling  drops  of  foam,  but  then  was  imprisoned 
by  the  frostwork  of  winter.  All  else  was  si 
lent  solitude.  Now,  —  ah  !  it  requires  the  pen 
10 


146  NAOMI. 

of  an  actor  in  these  busy  scenes  to  describe  their 
hurrying  tumult,  —  the  thronging  of  the  thor 
oughfare  where  the  wild  beast  then  roamed,  — 
the  rushing  of  the  almost  incessant  car  where 
the  serpent  brooded.  Where  the  wild  vine  and 
savage  creeping  plants  wove  an  intricate  netting 
upon  the  ground,  is  now  a  network  of  iron,  and 
metal  lines  dissect  the  air  where  only  the  wild 
bird  carolled  and  the  thousand  melodies  of 
nature  arose.  Fruit-trees,  the  vintage  of  the 
south,  the  blushing  fruits  of  the  tropics,  hang 
where  the  wild  swamp  threw  up  its  rank  veg 
etation  ;  gorgeous  flowers  bloom  where  the  poi 
sonous  weed  flourished.  Instead  of  the  wild 
Indian  is  the  industrious  laborer,  the  work  of 
whose  hardy  muscles,  the  sweat  of  whose  hon 
est  brow,  has  made  the  wilderness  thus  blossom. 
Woman,  too,  Christian  woman,  has  had  her  part 
in  the  work  of  these  two  short  centuries  ;  she 
has  taught  her  children  to  love  labor,  and  to  love 
God  ;  she  has  gathered  them  around  her  knees 
where  the  poor  Indian  squaw  left  the  frail  ones 
to  perish.  Children  are  everywhere  in  our  bless 
ed  land  of  Massachusetts  the  care  of  the  state  ; 
cherished  and  guarded  also  by  humane  and 
Christian  love,  gathering  them  into  Sunday 
Schools,  leading  them  by  the  tenderest  love  to 
the  only  example  of  true  excellence.  O,  did 


NAOMI.  147 

they  but  know  their  privileges,  —  were  they  sen 
sible  of  their  blessed  condition,  —  how  would 
they  strive  to  make  it  permanent,  to  transmit 
their  blessings  to  future  generations  ! 

To  return  to  our  pedestrians.  Next  came 
herds  of  cows  and  oxen,  driven  into  Boston,  the 
former  for  winter  quarters,  the  oxen  perhaps  for 
the  market.  They  had  been  pastured  during 
the  summer  upon  the  flats  and  hills  of  Muddy 
River,  or  Brookline,  and  were  now  plodding 
their  way,  each  to  its  well-known  manger  in 
the  corner  of  the  well-filled  barn.  Our  fathers 
were  most  humane  and  tender  in  their  care 
of  animals,  and  severely  punished  all  cruelty 
towards  them.  Some  of  the  cows  were  fol 
lowed  by  their  calves.  Naomi  and  Ruth  had 
passed  the  whole  herd,  when  they  found  one 
little  calf  lagging  far  behind  ;  it  had  met  with 
an  accident ;  one  of  its  legs  was  broken,  and  the 
little  cripple  with  its  utmost  exertions  could  not 
keep  up  with  the  herd.  It  was  pitiable  to  see 
the  distress  of  the  poor  mother,  obliged  to  go  on 
with  the  rest,  but  every  moment  turning  back 
to  aid  her  young  calf,  who  at  every  fruitless  leap 
rolled  over  in  the  snow ;  the  agony  of  the  moth 
er  was  inexpressible,  and  her  full  eye  seemed 
swelled  with  tears,  as  she  was  driven  on  by  the 
surly  brute  who  had  them  in  charge. 


148  NAOMI. 

The  scene  was  too  affecting  for  Ruth's  young 
nerves.  Petted  child  as  she  was,  she  felt  her 
power,  and  called  to  the  driver  to  stop  and  take 
up  the  calf  in  his  arms,  or  she  would  complain 
of  him  to  her  father.  He  answered  surlily, 
that  the  cattle  did  not  belong  to  her  father,  and 
that  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  them.  The 
two  young  girls  held  a  consultation,  and  the 
indulged  child  determined  to  purchase  the  priv 
ilege  of  disposing  of  both  cow  and  calf,  know 
ing  that  her  father,  if  he  blamed,  would  soon 
forgive. 

The  driver  was  the  owner  of  the  two  animals, 
or  he  would  not  have  dared  to  use  them  so  cru 
elly  ;  the  price  he  asked  was  greatly  too  large 
for  the  united  purses  of  Ruth  and  Naomi ;  but 
as  they  had  entered  into  the  affair  they  would 
not  give  it  up,  and  Naomi  gave  the  man  an 
order  on  her  step-father  for  the  rest  of  the  price. 
An  old  shed,  that  had  been  used  to  store  the  salt 
hay  from  the  flats,  sheltered  the  poor  calf  arid 
its  mother,  most  happy  to  lie  down  together 
till  they  could  be  sent  for  in  the  evening. 
Ruth's  exultation  was  almost  boundless,  when 
she  had  placed  the  poor,  limping  calf  by  the  side 
of  its  mother.  Perhaps  it  is  characteristic  of  the 
times  that  the  driver  was  the  only  sufferer.  Mr. 
Aldersey  was  so  satisfied  to  bring  a  delinquent 


NAOMI.  149 

to  punishment,  that  he  overlooked  this  act  of 
temerity  in  his  daughter.  The  man  was  obliged 
to  content  himself  with  only  half  the  price  he 
had  demanded  for  the  cow,  and  to  submit  to 
the  disgrace  of  an  hour  in  the  stocks. 

As  Naomi  and  Ruth  returned  from  their  ex 
citing  walk,  the  glory  of  the  morning  was  melt 
ing  away  in  the  meridian  sun  ;  the  southern  side 
of  tree  and  shrub  was  nearly  bare  of  the  glit 
tering  ornaments,  presenting,  if  Naomi  had  been 
so  disposed,  a  subject  for  moralizing  reflections 
upon  its  short-lived  splendor. 

The  ice  had  melted  away,  and  the  narrow 
central  stream  of  the  river  was  flowing,  like  a 
winding  and  beautiful  ribbon  of  indigo-blue, 
between  the  white,  glittering  marshes  on  either 
side. 

A  single  canoe  was  floating  down  this  stream, 
with  an  Indian  standing  erect  in  the  prow, 
wielding  a  long  pole  to  keep  the  boat  from  the 
ice  on  either  side,  while  his  wife  sat  in  the  stem. 
The  picturesque  and  graceful  form  of  the  In 
dian,  his  flowing  mantle  and  waving  plumes, 
the  ease  and  pliancy  of  his  motion  as  he  alter 
nately  bent  forward,  and  then  resumed,  with 
added  power,  his  erect  and  striking  attitude, 
formed  a  beautiful  living  picture  in  the  wide 
expanse  of  the  snow-clad  wintry  landscape. 


150  NAOMI. 

I  have  lingered  too  long,  perhaps,  upon  these 
peaceful  scenes,  unwilling  to  hurry  into  those 
of  a  darker,  though  more  exciting  interest ;  for 
the  soul  of  my  heroine  was  made  for  peace,  and 
to  pursue  her  gentle,  unobtrusive  way  through 
the  sheltered  paths  of  life,  revealing  herself  only, 
to  adopt  once  more  the  well-used  metaphor,  by 
the  fresher  green  and  the  lovelier  flowers  that 
folio  we'd  her  course. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

SPRING. 

"  She  brought  with  lirr  both  fruits  and  flowers, 

Matured  in  other,  sunnier  fields, 
Where  nature  in  her  southern  bowers 

A  glow  of  milder  radiance  yields."  —  SCHILLER. 

THE  winter  had  now  passed  away,  with  its 
wild  storms,  —  its  dark  and  its  brilliant,  its  clear 
and  frosty  days,  —  its  long  nights  of  cold,  white 
light,  that  seemed  like  summer  days  robbed  of 
all  heat  and  color.  The  stern  and  fervent  Puri 
tans  of  Boston  went  through  the  winter,  as  the 
summer,  asking  for  and  needing  no  relaxation. 
All  amusements  were  frowned  upon  or  forbid 
den  ;  no  private  dancing  was  allowed,  and  if 
detected,  was  severely  punished.  Our  good  fore 
fathers  had  never  seriously  considered  the  con 
sequences  of  stopping  up  the  spout  of  the  tea 
kettle. 

In  the  winter,  families  drew  closer  around 
their  huge  and  cheerful  fireplaces,  heaped  full 
of  glowing  logs.  Large  settles  on  each  side 
shut  in  the  inmates,  and  formed  a  smaller  apart 
ment  within  the  larger,  where  domestic  occu- 


152  NAOMI. 

pations,  the  flax-wheel  and  the  hand-loom,  with 
family  devotions,  passed  off  the  lingering  hours 
of  the  wintry  months.  In  the  aristocratic  fam 
ilies,  among  which  Mr.  Aldersey's  was  one  of 
the  most  distinguished,  the  couch,  more  luxuri 
ous  but  less  sheltered  than  the  settle,  held  the 
place  of  the  modern  sofa,  and  the  great  arm 
chair  was  more  honored  than  the  luxurious  fau- 
teuil.  The  master  of  the  family  occupied  this 
honored  chair,  and  with  the  Bible  before  him, 
and  every  member  of  the  family  collected 
around,  the  servants  occupying  humble  seats,  the 
long  winter  evenings  were  spent  in  propounding 
and  explaining  the  Scriptures,  and  closed  with 
prayer. 

To  Naomi  these  quiet  winter  hours  were  never 
tedious.  She  possessed  that  repose  of  mind 
and  character  that  was  fed  from  within,  and  de 
pending  so  little  upon  the  outward  for  aliment, 
even  during  the  never-ending  instructions  of  her 
step-father,  she  appropriated  only  such  little  mor 
sels  for  her  own  aliment,  that  she  never  felt 
satiety.  To  Ruth,  however,  winter  was  intol 
erably  dull,  and  she  hailed  the  first  melting  and 
genial  breeze  that  came  to  them  from  the  sweet 
south  with  the  delight  of  a  child.  Then  the 
long,  lingering  spring,  winter  once  more,  and  yet 
again,  returning,  leaving  its  footprints  in  the 


NAOMI.  153 

tender  verdure  of  May,  and  with  cold  embrace, 
like  the  touch  of  the  ice-spirit,  shrivelling  up  the 
new-born  blossom. 

At  length  the  fluctuating  and  inconstant 
weather  of  the  capricious  spring  settled  into  the 
clear  and  transparent  atmosphere  of  June.  The 
wind  blew  steadily  from  the  southwest,  and  the 
windows  could  all  be  left  open,  both  day  and 
night,  giving  free  admittance  to  the  air  of  the 
perfume-breathing  orchard.  The  color  of  the 
tender,  newly  expanded  foliage  varied  from  the 
softest  green  of  the  aspen  to  the  deep  purple  of 
the  oak.  Every  wild  brier  and  every  trodden 
weed,  every  lowly-creeping  plant  and  every  as 
piring  tree,  spread  out  its  delicate  blossom,  unob 
served  by  man ;  but  not  less  generously  did  it 
add  its  little  perfume  to  the  incense-breathing 
bosom  of  our  mother  earth.  Beauty,  too,  was 
hung  upon  every  branch  and  leaf,  and  the  earth 
was  covered  with  blossoms,  the  open  eyes  of 
beauty. 

On  the  evening  of  the  first  of  June,  Faith 
and  Naomi  sat  in  the  window-seat  of  the  par 
lour,  near  which  flourished  the  English  white 
rose-tree,  whose  first  blossom  had  opened  its 
petals  that  very  day.  It  recalled  her  home  to 
Naomi,  and  she  listened  as  though  she  could 
catch  the  harmonies  of  her  English  home  in  the 


154  NAOMI. 

sounds  that  met  her  ear  in  the  hum  of  the  even 
ing  ;  but  they  were  all  unlike  the  rural  sounds 
of  England.  Ruth,  still  too  young  to  relish  se 
rious  conversation,  had  strolled  out  with  com 
panions  of  her  own  age.  The  birds,  more  nu 
merous  in  Boston  than  at  the  present  time,  had 
begun  their  evening  song,  varied  by  the  myste 
rious  hymn  of  the  frogs  from  the  common,  and 
the  whistle  of  the  cow-boys  as  they  drove  their 
charges  home. 

Naomi  extended  her  arm,  and  plucked  the  rose 
that  hung  within  her  reach.  "  Ah  !  "  she  said, 
"  how  tenderly  does  this  remind  me  of  my  child 
hood  and  of  my  dear  mother !  It  was  her  favor 
ite  among  the  roses ;  I  believe  she  had  some 
association  connecting  it  with  the  War  of  the 
Roses.  It  was  to  an  ancestress  of  hers  that  those 
beautiful  lines  were  addressed,  — 

« If  this  fair  rose  offend  thy  sight, 

It  in  thy  bosom  wear; 
'T  will  blush  to  find  itself  less  white, 
And  turn  Lancastrian  there.' 

My  poor  nurse  Margaret  was  always  dressing 
me  up  with  white  roses  when  I  was  a  babe, 
from  which  she  had  carefully  removed  all  the 
thorns,  saying  thus  it  should  be  all  my  life  long  ; 
she  would  never  let  a  thorn  come  near  me." 
"  Poor  Margaret !  "  said  Faith ;  "  she  seems 


NAOMI.  155 

likely  now  to  strew  them  in  your  path  ;  but 
how  shall  we  dispose  of  her  ?  the  weather  will 
soon  be  intolerably  warm,  and  I  am  afraid  she 
will  not  be  able  to  support  the  heat  in  that 
little  low-roofed  garret ;  her  health  will  fail,  I 
fear." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  it,"  said  Naomi. 
"  Could  we  not  remove  her  without  observation 
to  my  step-father's  little  cottage  at  Muddy  River, 
where  she  could  be  concealed  through  the  hot 
weather.  Sambo  is  already  acquainted  with  her 
concealment.  He  would  take  her  in  the  boat 
during  the  darkness  of  the  evening,  and  Mr. 
Aldersey  would  know  nothing  of  it." 

"  But,"  said  Faith,  "  I  fear  Margaret  will  not 
consent  to  remain  concealed  much  longer.  Her 
affection  for  you  is  all  that  now  restrains  her 
from  breaking  forth  from  her  concealment  and 
proclaiming  her  new  principles  ;  her  burning  zeal 
seems  to  be  gathering  to  a  flame." 

"  Well,"  answered  Naomi,  "  the  last  time  I 
talked  with  her  I  felt  that  I  had  no  right  to  re 
strain  her  from  giving  her  testimony,  if  she  can 
do  it  with  moderation  and  without  descending 
to  the  abuse  of  others.  The  pure  spirit  of  truth 
is  in  her  heart,  and  though  perhaps  there  is  min 
gled  with  it  some  ostentation,  some  desire  to 
make  herself  conspicuous,  I  believe  she  has  the 


156  NAOMI. 

true  spirit  of  martyrdom  for  the  truth  ;  and  it 
surprises  me  that  she  has  consented  to  remain 
concealed  so  long ;  and,  indeed,  I  know  not 
whether  I  ought  to  consent  that,  to  preserve  me 
from  annoyance,  she  should  withhold  her  testi 
mony  to  the  truth." 

Faith  looked  at  Naomi  with  a  degree  of  won 
der  and  incredulity  that  brought  a  faint  color  to 
her  cheek.  She  said  only,  —  "  You  have  in 
curred  all  the  danger  that  you  can  incur  by 
giving  her  shelter."  Naomi  sat  there,  calm 
and  steadfast  after  the  expression  of  sentiments 
which,  if  Faith  had  not  learnt  to  know  and  ap 
preciate  Naomi's  pure,  truthful,  transparent  char 
acter,  would  have  curdled  her  blood  and  filled 
her  with  alarm  and  aversion. 

At  this  moment  of  their  conversation  they 
were  startled  by  the  distant  roll  of  a  drum,  a 
sound  which,  like  the  tocsin  during  the  Revolu 
tion  in  France,  filled  every  listener  with  conster 
nation.  The  time  had  been  purposely  chosen 
when  the  heads  of  families  were  resting,  the  la 
bors  of  the  day  over,  each  under  his  own  roof, 
to  break  in  upon  the  harmonies  of  the  evening 
with  the  appalling  voice  of  power,  and  the  un 
welcome  associations  connected  with  persecu 
tion. 

The    sharp   and    long-continued   roll    of    the 


NAOMI.  157 

drum  drew  nearer.  All  hastened  to  their  win 
dows.  The  sinister  procession,  consisting  of  the 
drummer,  the  constable,  and  the  town-clerk,  fol 
lowed  by  half  a  dozen  boys,  paused  beneath  the 
window  of  every  householder,  and  read  the  ter 
rible  proclamation  in  ear-piercing  tones.  In 
some  instances,  the  window  was  shut  quickly 
down;  but  those  who  listened  heard  that  for 
harbouring,  assisting,  encouraging,  sheltering,  or 
comforting  one  of  that  accursed  sect  called  Quak 
ers,  the  offender  for  the  first  offence  should  be 
punished  with  the  loss  of  an  ear ;  for  the  second, 
with  whipping,  and  the  tongue  be  bored  through 
with  a  red-hot  iron.  Every  word  was  distinctly 
heard  by  Naomi  and  Faith,  and  the  dark  proces 
sion  passed  on ;  and,  till  late  in  the  evening,  the 
lugubrious  sounds  of  the  drum  and  the  sharp 
voice  of  the  clerk  were  heard  publishing  from 
house  to  house,  and  breaking  upon  the  stillness 
of  the  summer's  night  with  the  iron  tongue  of 
threatened  persecution. 

At  the  first  sound  of  this  proclamation,  Naomi 
and  Faith,  as  they  sat  in  the  window,  exchanged 
looks  of  alarm,  and  a  slight  degree  of  paleness 
overspread  the  features  of  the  former.  A  sinister 
proclamation,  like  that  which  had  just  broken 
upon  the  peaceful  summer  evening,  showing  the 
unrelenting  determination  of  the  government, 


158  NAOMI. 

was  enough  of  itself  to  disturb  her  serenity  ;  but 
Naomi  had  another  cause  for  anxiety,  and  even 
terror,  that  touched  herself  most  nearly. 

A  few  weeks  previous  to  this  very  evening,  in 
one  of  those  dark  and  tempestuous  days  that  oc 
cur  about  the  time  of  the  vernal  equinox,  a 
woman  had  presented  herself  at  the  back  door  of 
Mr.  Aldersey's  house,  and  inquired  for  Naomi. 
She  refused  to  disclose  her  name  to  Faith,  who 
had  received  her,  and  indeed  sought  a  degree  of 
mystery  and  concealment,  that,  from  her  re 
spectable  appearance,  did  not  excite  in  Faith's 
candid  mind  any  suspicion  connected  with  guilt 
or  the  necessity  of  caution. 

When  Naomi  was  called,  she  instantly  recog 
nized  Margaret,  the  faithful  servant  of  her  moth 
er,  who  had  been,  as  we  have  previously  men 
tioned,  the  nurse  of  her  own  childhood;  and 
apparently  the  immediate  instrument  of  Naomi's 
own  change  of  views  upon  religion,  —  the  cause, 
under  Providence,  of  the  peace  that  had  ever 
since  dwelt  in  her  own  mind.  As  we  have  be 
fore  said,  she  had  been  left  behind  from  motives 
of  prudence,  and  through  Mr.  Aldersey's  per 
emptory  commands.  Margaret  had  pined  for  her 
nursling,  and  urged  on,  as  she  thought,  by  long 
ing  affection  for  Naomi,  under  which  true  feel 
ing,  indeed,  there  lurked  a  burning  zeal  for  mar- 


NAOMI.  159 

tyrdom,  she  had  taken  passage  for  Barhadoes. 
The  penalty  was  so  severe  for  bringing  Quakers 
to  Boston,  that  no  captain  would  venture  to 
bring  her  from  England.  After  a  long  and 
stormy  voyage  to  Barbadoes,  she  had  concealed 
the  fact  of  her  Quakerism,  and  had  thus  per 
suaded  a  captain  to  bring  her  from  thence  to 
Boston ;  but  during  the  voyage  her  burning  zeal 
had  betrayed  her  true  character  to  the  other  pas 
sengers,  and  to  the  ship's  company. 

Naomi,  with  a  gush  of  tender  recollection  of 
her  mother  and  of  her  own  childhood,  held  out 
her  arms  to  the  servant,  and  would  have  fallen 
on  her  breast,  exclaiming,  —  "  Margaret !  how 
came  you  here  ?  Why  are  you  here  ?  " 

Margaret  instantly  put  her  hand  upon  her  lips. 
"  Hush,  Miss  Naomi !  for  Heaven's  sake  speak 
low  !  Do  not  know  me  !  I  am  pursued  !  They 
are  searching  the  vessel,  and  taking  the  captain 
who  brought  us,  myself,  and  some  others,  to  jail. 
We  are  all  hotly  pursued,  and  I  came  only  to 
beg  shelter  for  one  night,  or  till  this  hot  pursuit 
be  over.  I  inquired  out  your  residence  before 
we  landed,  and  I  shall  never  be  suspected  of 
seeking  shelter  under  Mr.  Aldersey's  roof." 

Faith,  who  stood  by,  had  instantly  penetrated 
the  whole  mystery.  Margaret,  she  saw,  was  a 
Quaker.  Naomi  had  often  spoken  of  her  faith- 


160  NAOMI. 

ful  nurse  to  Faith  ;  but,  as  she  had  not  yet  re 
solved  to  make  a  confidant  even  of  her,  with 
regard  to  her  own  religious  views,  she  had  not 
mentioned  the  circumstance  of  her  being  a  zeal 
ous  Quaker.  Faith  instantly  saw  the  abyss,  the 
extent  of  the  danger  in  which  Naomi  was  in 
volving  herself.  Margaret  was  one  of  the  ac 
cursed,  come  to  throw  a  firebrand  into  that  peace 
ful  household,  to  taint  with  death  the  purest 
spot  in  the  church.  She  steeled  her  heart,  and, 
turning  to  Naomi,  said,  —  "  It  is  impossible  that 
this  woman  can  be  sheltered  here.  She  must 
not,  for  a  single  night,  rest  under  this  roof." 
And,  turning  to  Margaret,  —  "  You  must  take 
the  consequences  of  your  imprudence.  You  are 
a  Quaker ;  and  if  you  were  my  own  sister,  I 
should  shut  the  door  in  your  face !  " 

The  woman  looked  at  Naomi.  At  this  mo 
ment  there  was  a  rush  in  the  street,  as  if  in  pur 
suit  of  some  fugitive.  Naomi  instinctively  drew 
Margaret  within  the  kitchen,  and  at  the  same 
instant  shut  and  bolted  the  outward  door.  At 
that  moment  there  was  a  loud  knocking  at  the 
front  door.  Naomi  hastened  Margaret  up  the 
back  stairs,  and  concealed  her  in  a  small  closet, 
where  articles  of  apparel  were  hanging  thick  ; 
behind  these,  and  almost  in  danger  of  suffoca 
tion,  she  locked  her  in.  Fortunately,  there  had 


NAOMI.  161 

been  no  one  in  the  kitchen  at  the  time  of  this 
interruption  except  Faith,  who  was  kneading 
bread.  She  had  quietly  resumed  her  work  when 
Naomi  returned,  and  said  a  few  words  to  her  in 
a  low  voice.  The  deed  was  done,  and  now  the 
faithfulness  and  generosity  of  Faith's  nature  were 
enlisted  in  the  concealment  to  which  she  had  so 
reluctantly  consented. 

Naomi  took  up  her  knitting  again  in  the  par 
lour.  All  this  passed  so  quickly  that  old  Sambo 
had  only  sufficient  time  to  usher  those  who  had 
been  knocking  at  the  front  door  into  that  apart 
ment.  Mr.  Aldersey  sat  comfortably  in  his  great 
arm-chair  by  the  fireside  j  two  centuries  later,  the 
newspaper  would  have  been  before  him  ;  but  he 
now  held  in  his  hand  the  Rev.  Mr.  Norton's 
tractate  against  the  Quakers,  that  bitter  essay, 
for  writing  which  he  received  a  hundred  acres 
of  land  from  the  General  Court. 

The  constable,  for  such  it  was,  and  the  cap 
tain  of  the  ship,  who  had  offered,  upon  condition 
of  his  own  release,  to  discover  the  hiding-places 
of  his  passengers,  abruptly  declared  the  cause  of 
their  intrusion  by  saying  that  one  of  the  women 
had  been  seen  to  run  for  refuge  to  and  to  enter 
the  back  premises  of  this  house. 

Mr.  Aldersey  laid  down  his  book,  and  rose, 
with  offended  dignity.  "He  should  have  sup- 
11 


162  NAOMI. 

posed,"  he  said,  "  that,  from  his  known  character, 
—  an  elder  of  the  church,  also  ;  a  magistrate,  strict 
in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  ;  a  church-member, 
well  known  for  his  zeal  and  his  hatred  against 
all  heretics,  especially  Quakers,  —  he  should  have 
expected  to  be  exempt  from  such  base  suspicions 
and  such  intrusive  visits." 

The  constable,  however,  insisted  upon  doing 
his  duty,  and  Mr.  Aldersey  ordered  Sambo  to  ac 
company  them  upon  their  search.  Naomi  had 
glided  unobserved  from  the  parlour.  As  the 
constable  entered  the  kitchen,  Faith  took  her 
hands  from  the  bread  she  was  kneading,  de 
liberately  wiped  off  the  flour,  and  with  imper 
turbable  calmness  lighted  another  candle,  ready 
to  accompany  them  on  their  search. 

After  they  had  examined  all  the  other  cham 
bers,  — "  This,"  said  Naomi,  who  had  joined 
them  on  the  stairs,  "  this  is  my  own  room,"  as 
she  opened  the  door  of  the  chamber  where  Ruth, 
her  sister,  was  apparently  fast  asleep  in  her  own 
bed  ;  "enter  softly  here,  or  you  will  awake  and 
frighten  my  sister.  It  might  produce  serious 
consequences  to  awake  her  suddenly,  with  men 
and  strangers  in  her  room." 

The  constable  drew  back  j  he  had  that  very 
evening  left  his  own,  only  child  asleep  near 
its  mother,  when  he  was  called  out  upon  this 


NAOMI.  163 

duty,  and  the  last  image  that  remained  upon  his 
mind  was  that  of  its  sleeping  form.  He  drew 
back,  and  they  closed  the  door  of  the  chamber, 
within  which  was  the  closet  where  Margaret  was 
concealed. 

The  constables  returned  to  the  kitchen  and 
examined  the  servants,  who  had  again  collected. 
The  servants  knew  nothing,  for  one  had  been 
absent  feeding  the  beasts  in  the  stable,  another 
had  gone  to  the  cellar,  and  Sambo  was  with  his 
master,  setting  out  the  table  and  the  Bible  for 
evening  worship.  Naomi,  by  her  ingenuity,  had 
saved  Margaret.  She  had  glided  up  stairs  while 
the  constable  was  talking  with  her  step-father, 
and  persuaded  Ruth  to  put  herself  into  bed  and 
imitate  sleep.  By  the  happy  coincidence  of  the 
constable's  sleeping  child,  Margaret  was  undiscov 
ered  ;  and  from  that  hour  till  this  very  evening 
Naomi  had  sheltered  and  concealed  her.  To  Faith 
alone  was  this  concealment  known.  Ruth  sus 
pected,  but  did  not  know,  that  Margaret  was  the 
tenant  of  a  small  garret,  that  was  always  kept 
locked ;  but  upon  Mr.  Aldersey's  mind  had  never 
dawned  the  slightest  shade  of  suspicion  that  his 
orthodox  roof  sheltered  an  accursed  heretic  and 
Quaker. 

Partly  from  fear,  and  from  illness  that  succeed 
ed  the  fatigues  of  her  voyage,  and  partly  from 


164 


NAOMI. 


gratitude  and  affection,  that  induced  Margaret 
not  to  compromise  her  benefactress,  they  had 
succeeded  in  keeping  her  quiet ;  but  the  state  of 
Naomi's  mind,  her  sympathy  with  the  belief,  if 
not  with  the  outward  distinctions,  of  Quaker 
ism,  inevitably  became  known  to  Faith.  Naomi 
would  have  been  glad  if  Faith  had  learned  it 
from  her  own  spontaneous  confession ;  but  it 
was  better  so  :  before  she  learned  it,  she  had  be 
come  acquainted  with  the  angelic  purity  and 
beauty  of  Naomi's  character ;  "  and  if,"  said 
Faith,  "  Quakerism  produces  such  fruits,  better 
were  it  that  the  whole  colony  were  Quakers." 

Naomi  and  Faith  did  not  leave  Margaret  to 
the  solitude  of  her  garret ;  although  the  state  of 
exaltation  in  which  she  was,  like  the  delirium  of 
a  person  slightly  insane,  made  her  totally  indif 
ferent  to  the  place  in  which  she  dwelt,  yet  they 
did  not  leave  her  alone.  As  soon  as  Ruth  had 
retired  for  the  night,  they  resorted  to  her  little 
room.  At  such  times,  Naomi's  pale  complexion 
and  the  pure  outline  of  her  features  were  denned 
by  the  light  of  the  fire,  for  they  dared  not  take 
a  candle,  and  this  uncertain  and  varying  play  of 
light  gave  her  the  form  and  expression  of  an 
angel  visitant ;  and  as  she  sat  between  the  two 
women,  the  one  burning  with  heretical  zeal,  the 
other  shuddering  with  all  the  horror  and  detesta- 


NAOMI.  165 

tion  of  the  times  against  the  heresy,  tolerating 
the  heretic  only  from  feelings  of  humanity, 
Naomi  was  indeed  what  she  seemed,  a  mediating 
and  reconciling  spirit. 

The  conversation  often  reverted  to  the  mother 
country,  and  to  circumstances  that  occurred 
there.  I  have  said  above  that  Faith  never  sus 
pected  Naomi's  Quaker  principles,  as  there  was 
nothing  peculiar  in  the  exterior  to  betray  the 
secret  fountain  that  fed  and  refreshed  the  roots 
from  which  sprang  the  fresh  and  lovely  flowers 
of  her  every-day  life.  One  evening,  Margaret, 
led  on  by  reminiscences  of  home,  mentioned  the 
meeting  when  they  had  been  so  much  moved  by 
the  preaching  of  George  Fox. 

Naomi  looked  at  Faith  while  she  answered,  — 
"  Ah,  yes !  I  never  can  forget  what  has  changed 
the  whole  complexion  of  my  character  and  given 
peace  to  my  soul." 

Faith  did  not  start,  nor  express  any  surprise ; 
but  she  turned  very  pale,  and,  looking  again  at 
Naomi,  she  rose  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Stay,  Faith,"  said  Naomi ;  and,  taking  her 
gently  around  the  waist,  she  drew  her  again  into 
her  chair.  "  You  must  know  it  sooner  or  later," 
she  added.  "  I,  too,  am  a  Quaker,  —  a  Quaker  in 
heart  and  principle ;  but  I  do  not  feel  compelled, 
as  others  do,  to  proclaim  my  faith  to  the  world. 


166  NAOMI. 

I  am  but  a  babe  and  a  humble  learner  in  this 
pure  belief,  and  do  not  yet  feel  it  my  privilege  to 
encounter  martyrdom." 

Faith  looked  at  Naomi,  as  though  possessing 
herself  completely  of  the  meaning  of  her  words, 
and  repeated  very  slowly  the  words  Naomi  had 
used,  pausing  between  every  syllable  :  —  "  You 
are  a  Quaker  in  heart  and  principle,  —  you  are 

a  Quaker Ah,  well !  that  cannot  be  an 

evil  faith,  —  that  cannot  lead  to  evil  that  produ 
ces  such  fruits  as  I  see  in  you." 

Faith's  plain  good-sense  and  candid  dispo 
sition  had  come  exactly  to  the  truth ;  she  had 
struck  the  nail  upon  the  head  ;  illiterate,  but 
true  and  simple-minded,  she  had  discerned  the 
truth,  —  that  could  not  be  bad  in  itself  that 
cherished  and  fed  with  its  secret  springs  the 
beautiful  riches,  the  lovely  graces,  of  such  a 
character  as  Naomi's.  It  was  the  abuse,  the  ex 
travagance,  the  perversion  of  these  pure  princi 
ples,  she  thought,  that  did  so  much  mischief. 

"  Well,"  said  Margaret,  her  zeal  beginning 
to  kindle  ;  "  you  see  what  are  the  fruits  of  pure 
Quakerism ;  you  see  them  in  Miss  Naomi ;  will 
you  not  also  inquire  and  be  convinced,  and  join 
the  company  of  the  faithful." 

"  No,"  said  Faith,  and  she  shook  her  head ; 
"  I  am  content  with  my  own  church.  It  is 


NAOMI.  167 

good  enough  for  me.  I  must  be  permitted  to 
go  to  heaven  in  the  old  way.  I  believe  it  has 
done  very  well  for  every  body  since  the  days  of 
the  Apostle  Paul.  I  think  it  quite  unnecessary, 
to  say  the  least,  to  give  new  names  to  old  things  ; 
and,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  Miss  Naomi's  faith  pro 
duces  as  good  works  as  Mr.  Wilson's,  or  even  our 
old  minister's,  whom  I  remember  well,  Mr.  Cotton  ; 
there  never  was  a  holier  saint ;  but  I  dare  say  he 
has  met  in  heaven  many  that  he  never  expected 
to  welcome  there." 

"  Yes,"  said  Naomi,  "  the  paths  diverge,  but 
they  meet  at  the  gate  ;  and  O,  how  many  shall 
we  there  find  with  their  beautiful  robes,  —  the 
white  robes  of  seraphs,  —  who  have  here  sat  in 
the  dust  and  ashes  of  contempt ;  who  have  been 
turned  from  the  gates  of  the  church  ;  whom  the 
Pharisees  have  passed  by,  shaking  their  robes  as 
they  passed  them  lest  they  should  have  con 
tracted  the  taint  of  heresy  !  " 

Faith,  thus  admitted  to  the  confidence  of  Na 
omi,  felt  a  more  tender,  a  more  watchful  interest 
in  her.  Humble  as  was  her  situation  in  the 
family,  she  had  thoroughly  penetrated  the  char 
acter  of  Mr.  Aldersey.  She  knew  that  even 
the  selfish  hope  of  inheriting  the  fortune  of  Na 
omi  would  not  restrain  him  from  showing  his 
bitter  animosity,  if  the  disgrace  of  heresy  was 


168  NAOMI. 

brought  upon  his  roof-tree.  She  felt  from  this 
moment  a  double  guardianship  of  Naomi's  rep 
utation,  and  of  her  actual  safety  under  the  roof 
of  her  step-father. 

It  had  required  the  utmost  watchfulness,  both 
from  Faith  and  Naomi,  to  prevent  Margaret, 
burning  as  she  was  with  Quaker  zeal,  from 
lifting  up  her  voice,  even  in  Mr.  Aldersey's  fam 
ily.  She  also  had  this  evening  heard  the  hol 
low  thundering  of  that  drum,  and  the  murder 
ous  voice  breaking  in  upon  the  quiet  of  the 
summer  evening,  to  proclaim  infamous  penalties 
upon  her  benefactress,  and  she  instantly  resolved 
to  leave  the  shelter  of  that  roof.  It  cannot  be 
denied,  also,  that  there  was  something  in  the 
touch  of  that  drum,  in  the  proclamation  of  those 
ignominious  penalties,  that  gave  air  to  the  strug 
gling  fire  in  her  breast  and  kindled  it  to  a  flame. 
She  believed  it  was  the  voice  of  God  calling 
upon  her  to  take  her  part  in  the  persecution  and 
martyrdom  that  were  beginning  again  with  re 
newed  bitterness.  She  secretly  left  the  house 
that  night,  and  joined  a  party  of  Quakers  al 
ready  in  Boston. 

Persecution  now  awoke  with  tenfold  severity ; 
and  the  irregularities  and  extravagances  of  the 
Quakers  increased  with  the  severity  of  the 
measures  of  the  government.  Every  day  some 


NAOMI.  169 

new  punishment,  some  whipping,  or  some  brand 
ing  was  the  subject  of  conversation.  It  is  well 
known  that  the  female  Quakers  defied  and  pro 
voked  the  utmost  severity  of  the  laws.  They 
proclaimed  their  opinions  in  immodest  garb,  and 
in  the  public  streets  ;  they  went  into  the  meet 
ing-houses  in  sackcloth,  with  ashes  on  their 
heads,  and  their  faces  painted  with  odious  colors  ; 
they  insulted  the  ministers,  and  defied  the  mag 
istrates  at  the  foot  of  the  pillory  and  the  scaffold. 
They  even  courted  death.  Mary  Dyer,  who 
had  been  twice  banished  from  Boston,  and  once 
reprieved  from  the  scaffold  with  the  rope  around 
her  neck,  had  this  very  spring  returned  again  to 
Boston,  determined  to  brave  the  utmost  penalty, 
to  offer  herself  up  a  martyr  to  the  cause. 

The  government  would  bear  with  her  no 
longer ;  the  day  of  her  execution  was  appointed. 
In  the  mean  time  Margaret,  as  soon  as  she  was 
away  from  the  guardianship  of  her  benefactress, 
conducted  in  so  imprudent  a  manner  as  to  come 
under  the  severe  penalty  of  the  law,  and  was 
immediately  arrested  and  placed  with  others  in 
the  Boston  jail.  Naomi's  mind  was  filled  with 
anxiety,  not  on  her  own  account,  for  no  one 
had  dared  to  question  her,  and  the  opinions 
she  kept  locked  in  her  own  breast  could  not 


170  NAOMI. 

come  under  the  cognizance  of  the  civil  tribunal, 
but  she  felt  bound  by  tender  ties  to  Margaret ; 
she  could  not  abandon  her,  and  she  felt  a  pre 
sentiment  that  she  should  herself  become  in 
volved  in  her  fate. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

I  WOULD  here  pause  for  a  moment  before  de 
scribing  that  atrocious  act  that  disgraces  the 
annals  of  our  early  history,  —  the  execution  at 
the  gallows  of  that  aged,  feeble,  desolate  old 
woman,  whose  gray  head  Nature  herself,  in  a 
few  short  years,  would  have  laid  in  the  grave,  — 
to  recall  all  the  circumstances  that  can  possibly 
palliate,  if  not  justify,  the  deed. 

The  Quakers  at  this  time  had  become  an  in 
tolerable,  an  unbearable  affliction  to  our  fathers. 
They  had  warned  and  threatened  them,  pun 
ished  and  banished,  but  all  in  vain.  Where  one 
was  banished,  ten  returned  in  his  place.  Their 
insulting  and  blasphemous  language  was  not  the 
half  that  the  ministers  and  magistrates  had  to 
bear  with  ;  the  low  order  of  Quakers  that  visit 
ed  this  country  endeavoured  by  every  mean  and 
malicious  tale,  by  every  secret  and  unfair  prac 
tice,  to  injure  the  fair  fame  and  impair  the  use 
fulness  of  the  ministers.  They  endeavoured  to 
make  divisions  in  the  church  and  in  families, 
infusing  bitterness  into  the  hearts  of  church- 
members,  dividing  children  against  their  par- 


172  NAOMI. 

ents,  and  even  severing  the  ties  that  bound 
together  the  wife  and  the  husband.  Their 
efforts  all  tended  to  the  subversion  of  civil  order, 
and  to  bring  anarchy  into  the  church  and  into 
the  government  of  the  country.  We  may  also 
add,  what  no  doubt  was,  to  our  ancestors,  a  suffi 
cient  justification  of  their  course,  that  they  only 
followed  the  example  of  the  mother  country  in 
their  treatment  of  the  Quakers.  Till  after  ( the 
return  of  the  second  Charles,  branding  and  mu 
tilating  was  the  practice  of  England,  a  practice 
whose  fruit,  indeed,  had  been  like  the  apples  of 
Sodom,  ashes  and  bitterness.  If  the  light  of 
toleration  had  not  dawned  in  England,  how 
could  it  be  expected  to  shine  upon  these  western 
shores  ?  Ah  !  that  sun  was  far  below  the  hori 
zon  ;  it  can  scarcely  yet  be  said  to  have  risen 
above  the  thick  night  of  bigotry.  We  can  hard 
ly  tell  what  would  have  been  the  result,  if  our 
fathers  had  loved  religious  liberty  as  well  as  they 
did  civil  emancipation ;  if  they  had  been  so  far 
before  their  age  as  to  have  tolerated  a  difference 
in  religious  opinions,  or  acted  with  the  simple 
good-sense  of  Faith,  and,  looking  beyond  the 
fanatics,  had  observed  the  life  of  the  purest 
among  the  Quakers.  At  this  very  time  there 
were  pure,  noble-minded,  sincere,  and  pious 
Quakers,  even  among  those  who  came  to  these 
western  shores. 


NAOMI.  173 

As  was  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  the  ex 
ecution  of  Mary  Dyer  had  been  appointed  for 
the  next  day.  It  was  Thursday,  and  an  addi 
tional  solemnity  was  given  to  the  act  by  its 
taking  place  immediately  before  the  Lecture. 
She  had  wantonly  returned  to  brave  martyrdom, 
to  throw  herself  into  the  arms  of  the  execution 
er,  and  the  forbearance  of  our  fathers  could  be 
no  longer  sustained.  The  proceedings  of  the 
court  were  summary  indeed.  Twenty-four  hours 
were  all  that  was  allowed  her  !  "  Prepare  your 
self,"  said  the  governor  ;  "for  to-morrow  morning 
at  nine  o'clock  you  die  !  "  Neither  her  silvered 
head,  nor  the  voices  of  her  kneeling  children, 
nor  the  eloquent  petition  of  her  husband,  that 
seemed  wrung  from  his  heart  with  passionate 
tears,  could  move  the  court  to  relent  at  "  her  in 
considerate  madness,"  nor  allow  "  the  wings  of 
mercy  to  soar  above  the  balance  of  justice."  It 
was  necessary  to  strike  terror  into  that  ever-in 
creasing  and  audacious  sect ;  to  show  the  Quak 
ers  that  they  could  not  breathe  in  New  England. 

The  sun  rose  that  June  morning,  like  the  sun 
of  any  other  day,  upon  the  waveless  mirror  of 
the  bay,  where  every  mast  and  spar  of  the  ship 
ping,  every  softly  undulating  outline  or  bold 
headland  of  the  coast  and  islands,  was  rendered 
more  beautifully  soft,  as  it  was  seen  reflected 


174  NAOMI. 

in  the  transparent  water.  The  perfect  calm  of 
the  water,  and  a  light  breath  of  wind  from  the 
east,  but  not  enough  to  fill  the  sails,  suspended  a 
few  fishing-vessels  —  motionless,  resting  doubled, 
the  reflected  one  the  more  distinctly  defined  — 
upon  the  smooth  and  burnished  mirror  of  the  bay. 

This  sabbath  of  our  little  world,  this  silent 
hymn  of  nature,  was  soon  to  be  broken  by  rude 
sounds,  and  the  lovely  beauty  of  God's  creation 
profaned  by  the  bleeding  offering  of  man's  pas 
sions.  The  solitudes  of  the  New  World  had 
seen  few  such  base  and  bloody  deeds.  The  In 
dian,  indeed,  tortured  and  slew  his  enemies ;  but 
it  was  a  noble  sacrifice.  He  yielded  to  the 
promptings  of  a  "  great  revenge  "  ;  he  had  the 
stern  justice  of  the  conqueror  to  excuse  an  act, 
which  would  have  been  inexorably  fulfilled  on 
him  had  he  been  conquered  j  but  it  was  the 
white  man  and  the  follower  of  the  martyr,  —  he 
who  called  himself  a  Christian,  —  that  first  in 
sulted  the  virgin  beauty  of  our  New  World  with 
ignoble  revenge,  and,  like  Cain,  slew  his  brother 
because  the  offerings  upon  their  religious  altars 
differed  in  quality  and  form. 

Soon  after  sunrise  the  tranquillity  of  this  love 
ly  summer  morning  was  broken  by  the  drum 
calling  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  the  different 
companies  together.  Near  the  training-field,  the 


NAOMI.  175 

sound  of  the  carpenter's  saw  and  axe  gave  awful 
note  that  the  hasty  preparations  were  completing. 
Naomi,  as  she  stood  early  at  her  window  over 
looking  the  principal  highway  across  the  Neck, 
soon  saw  it  covered  with  carts  and  horsemen, 
with  pedestrians,  and  vehicles  of  every  descrip 
tion  then  known  in  the  New  World.  The  free 
men  from  the  surrounding  towns  were  hastening 
into  Boston.  They  were  for  the  most  part  staid, 
serious,  and  intellectual-looking  men,  in  rather 
plain  clothes,  for  the  dress  of  the  gentlemen  of  the 
city  was  richer  than  that  of  those  of  the  country. 
The  horsemen  had  their  wives  or  daughters  be 
hind  them,  dressed  in  close-cut  velvet  hoods,  fast 
ened  beneath  the  chin.  This  "  French  hood," 
so  fashionable  at  this  period,  was  cut  very  much 
in  front  like  what  has  since  been  called  the 
"  Marie  Stuart  cap,"  and  was  now,  by  most  of 
the  Boston  dames,  worn  without  a  veil.  The 
Rev.  Mr. /Norton,  as  we  have  already  mentioned, 
had  lately  preached  against  the  abomination  of 
veils,  and  the  ladies  had  laid  them  aside.  It 
seems  strange  to  us  that  masks,  also  an  article  of 
ladies'  attire,  universally  worn  when  they  en 
countered  the  meridian  sun  of  a  summer's  day, 
should  have  passed  uncensured,  while  the  inno 
cent  veil  was  anathematized  by  the  guardians  of 
private  morals.  From  the  universal  picturesque- 


176  NAOMI. 

ness  of  attire  worn  at  this  period,  the  groups  upon 
the  Neck  presented  little  monotony  of  appear 
ance,  and  here  and  there  appeared  a  country 
demoiselle,  masked  and  alone,  on  horseback,  ex 
ulting  in  her  gayer  dress  and  independent  po 
sition.  These  parties,  as  they  entered  the  town, 
thronged  to  the  lower  part  of  the  training-field, 
—  extending  then  to  the  south  part  of  Washing 
ton  Street,  —  the  spot  of  most  absorbing  interest. 

The  ferry-boats  passed  continually  back  and 
forth,  freighted  with  people  hastening  to  the 
spectacle.  Charles  River  and  the  inner  bay  were 
also  covered  with  innumerable  boats,  all  freight 
ed  with  people  bearing  the  same  general  aspect 
of  serious,  reflective,  and  even  stern  expression. 
They  gathered  in  knots,  or  passed  silently 
through  the  streets  to  the  training-field.  There 
was  no  exultation,  no  joyous  sound ;  all  wore 
stern  and  solemn  faces,  and  spoke  in  low  voices, 
while  an  expression  of  anxious  care  sat  on  every 
brow. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  people  did  not  all 
go  with  the  ministers  and  the  magistrates  in 
their  severe  views,  nor  believe  in  the  necessity 
of  hanging  the  Quakers.  They  also  trembled 
for  their  own  liberties,  when  they  considered  the 
great  assumption  of  power  by  the  magistrates. 
The  sentence  for  the  execution  of  Mary  Dyer  had 


»          NAOMI.  177 

passed  by  one  vote  only.  Women,  the  whole 
sex,  had  felt  themselves  deeply  aggrieved  by 
seeing  numbers  of  that  sex,  young  and  old,  strip 
ped  to  the  waist,  and  whipped  through  the  pub 
lic  streets ;  but  the  odium  attached  to  the  ac 
cursed  sect  was  still  great,  and  the  influence  of 
the  ministers  in  full  force.  Endicott,  the  stern 
governor,  was  determined  to  rid  the  country  of 
these  children  of  the  Evil  One.  Ah,  how  did 
the  rigid  old  man  deceive  himself!  The  histo 
ries  of  the  period  give  us  room  to  say,  that  much 
of  their  heresy  consisted  in  the  disrespect  of  al 
ways  remaining  covered  in  his  presence. 

But  the  hour  for  the  execution  drew  near. 
The  training-field,  then,  as  now,  a  grassy  in- 
closure,  surrounded  with  trees,  was  soon  filled 
with  a  dense  crowd.  The  beautiful  slopes  of 
Beacon  Hill  were  covered  with  the  lighter  and 
more  varied  drapery  of  women  and  children. 
Immediately  around  the  scaffold  was  a  cleared 
inclosure,  where  the  ministers  and  magistrates 
were  to  take  their  places.  Now  the  drums  were 
heard  and  the  measured  tread  of  soldiers,  and  a 
throng  of  people  appeared,  headed  by  the  govern 
or  and  his  halberdiers,  with  the  ministers  of  a 
compassionate  and  peace-loving  religion,  —  all  this 
array  of  terror  to  conduct  a  feeble,  gray-headed 
woman  to  expiate  the  sin  of  thinking  for  herself! 
12 


178 


NAOMI. 


Silence  was  proclaimed  ;  and  now  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Norton's  deep  voice  broke  upon  the  hushed 
attention  with  the  words  of  the  psalm  :  — 

"  He  that  in  heaven  sits  shall  laugh, 
The  Lord  shall  scorn  them  all ; 
Then  shall  he  speak  to  them  in  wrath, 
In  rage  he  vex  them  shall." 

Immediately  after  the  psalm,  which  sounded 
far  over,  and  was  echoed  back  by  the  hills,  the 
wan  and  melancholy  face  of  Wilson  was  seen  to 
ascend  the  scaffold.  He  had  passed  through 
many  and  deep  domestic  sorrows,  —  had  borne 
the  death  of  his  accomplished  son,  that  broke  the 
heart  of  the  too  tender  mother,  the  loss  of  both 
his  daughters,  and  of  many  lovely  grandchildren  ; 
these  sorrows  had  worn  deep  traces  upon  the 
man,  but  they  had  not  subdued  the  stern,  un 
relenting  Puritan.  The  heart  of  the  man  was 
melting  and  full  of  love,  but  the  soul  of  the  Cal- 
vinist  Avas  fierce  and  bitter.  Such  was  the  rev 
erence  in  which  Mr.  Wilson  was  held,  that 
throughout  that  vast  multitude  not  a  whisper 
or  a  sound  was  heard  during  an  hour  that  he 
held  them  in  breathless  attention,  reminding 
them  of  the  judgment  of  God  upon  Korah.  "  Get 
you  up  from  this  congregation,  that  I  may  con 
sume  them  in  a  moment."  The  parallel  be 
tween  the  rebellion  of  Korah  against  Moses  and 


NAOMI.  179 

Aaron,  and  that  of  the  Quakers  against  the 
church,  was  drawn  with  so  much  energy,  with 
such  an  overpowering  eloquence,  that  the  ex 
cited  people  were  ready  to  rush  upon  the  scaffold 
and  take  his  office  out  of  the  hands  of  the  exe 
cutioner,  and  tear  the  victim  to  pieces. 

***** 
I  draw  a  veil  over  the  rest  of  the  transactions 
of  that  unhappy  day,  when  the  sweet  June  air 
upon  Boston  common  was  tainted  by  the  expir 
ing  breath  of  an  aged  woman,  a  martyr  to  re 
ligious  opinions.  The  sun  had  reached  the  me 
ridian  when  the  crowds  began  to  disperse  and 
the  people  to  seek  their  homes.  The  little  town 
was  full  of  strangers  and  visitors,  drawn  from 
every  part  of  the  country  to  witness  the  strange 
but  exciting  scene.  The  enthusiasm  and  tone 
of  fervor  were  kept  up  to  the  highest  point  of 
exaltation  by  the  Thursday  Lecture,  that  fol 
lowed  immediately  after  the  execution.  The 
ministers  embraced  the  occasion  to  excite  the 
lukewarm,  to  reconcile  the  disaffected,  and  to 
confirm  the  zealous  and  the  persecuting  in  the 
belief  that  they  were  doing  God  service.  Their 
prayers  were  more  fervent  than  usual ;  they 
thanked  God  from  the  bottom  of  their  devout 
hearts  for  ridding  them  of  the  evil-doer,  for 


180 


NAOMI. 


silencing  the  tongue  of  the  profane,  and  cutting 
off  those  who  would  scatter  blasphemies  and 
heresies  through  the  land. 

Thus  did  they  harden  and  deceive  their  own 
consciences.  - 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  All  great  desires  that  God  hath  given 

Are  prophecies  of  powers, 
But  genius,  though  the  gift  of  Heaven, 
Demands  laborious  hours." 

IN  order  to  connect  the  different  characters 
that  take  their  humble  part  in  our  story,  we  must 
go  back  some  ten  years,  and  to  a  lonely  farm 
house  that  stood  somewhere  between  the  rocky 
heights  of  Roxbury  and  the  meadows  of  Muddy 
River.  This  farm  had  been  allotted  to  one  of 
the  early  settlers,  a  yeoman  from  the  mother 
country,  who  had  labored  hard  to  bring  it  into 
the  high  cultivation  that  had  so  charmed  his 
eyes  and  cheered  his  labors  upon  his  father's 
farm  at  home.  But  the  sterile  soil,  the  rocky 
nature  of  the  ground,  the  long  and  severe  frosts 
of  the  winters,  and  the  fact  that  the  husbandry 
of  England  was  not  wholly  adapted  to  the  differ 
ence  of  our  soil  and  climate,  —  a  truth  that  our 
fathers  were  slow  to  learn,  —  had  caused  him  to 
go  every  year  more  and  more  behindhand,  and 
had  drawn  many  furrows  in  his  honest  and  ex 
panded  brow. 

It  was  the  closing  in  of  the  evening  in  the 


182  NAOMI. 

latter  part  of  December,  a  cold  and  dark  evening, 
for  there  had  been  a  heavy  fall  of  snow,  and  the 
trees  were  loaded  and  bent  with  this  beautiful 
white  frosting  of  winter ;  the  branches  of  the 
hemlocks,  bowed  into  graceful  and  waving  forms 
by  the  weight  of  the  incumbent  snow,  looked 
in  the  dusky  light  like  bunches  of  enormous 
plumes,  and  might  have  served  for  the  gigantic 
helmet  of  the  castle  of  Otranto.  The  farm 
house,  an  unusual  circumstance,  stood  retired 
from  the  road,  and  a  slightly  trodden  path  upon 
the  deep  snow  led  up  to  its  door-step. 

The  evening  was  closing  in ;  the  cattle  and 
domestic  animals  had  been  housed  and  fed  ;  the 
cows  had  yielded  their  evening  repast,  the  fowls 
all  roosted  beneath  a  shed  as  near  the  house  as 
they  could  find  shelter,  crowding  themselves  to 
gether  beneath  the  friendly  protection  of  man. 
The  human  inmates  of  this  farm-house  were 
collected  together  in  the  kitchen,  where  a  large 
fire  burned  brightly  in  the  huge  chimney-place. 
The  farmer  himself,  whose  open  and  healthy 
countenance  began  to  be  shadowed  over  with 
deep  lines  of  care,  sat  by  a  solitary  candle, 
with  papers  before  him,  and  seemed  deeply  in 
volved  in  the  intricacies  of  calculations  of  gain 
and  loss.  His  wife,  a  woman  of  a  mild  and 
saintly  countenance,  sat  nearer  the  chimney, 


NAOMI.  183 

spinning  fine  thread  of  flax  upon  a  small  foot- 
wheel.  A  healthy  young  girl  about  fifteen  years 
old,  with  the  fair  complexion  and  open  and  rud 
dy  countenance  of  her  father,  was  busy  with 
domestic  cares,  clearing  away  the  supper-table 
and  arranging  every  thing  neatly  in  the  apart 
ment. 

These  were  not  all  the  inmates  of  this  quiet, 
though  spacious  and  well-arranged  room,  —  for  it 
served  the  purposes  of  kitchen  and  parlour.  It 
was  the  room,  also,  for  all  domestic  farm-work, 
and  a  large  moreen  curtain  hanging  in  front  of  a 
turned-up  bedstead,  showed  that  it  could  be  used 
when  needed  as  a  sleeping  apartment.  Hanging 
shelves  were  suspended  from  the  bare  rafters, 
upon  which  rested  the  produce  of  a  former  dairy, 
when  the  farmer  was  richer  and  his  wife  more 
robust.  Large  cheeses  showed  the  industry  of 
the  wife,  and  the  generous  return  the  cows  had 
made.  Sheaves  of  corn  and  flitches  of  bacon 
were  also  suspended  around  the  apartment. 
The  immense  fire-place  and  hearth,  with  the 
high-backed  settles  on  each  side,  portioned  off 
that  inner  side  of  the  room  as  the  more  domestic 
and  private  sanctuary  of  the  family. 

There  was  another  inmate.  Near  his  moth 
er's  chair  and  under  the  shadow  of  the  huge  fire 
place,  so  that  the  light  of  the  pine  fire  fell  upon 


184  NAOMI. 

the  pages  of  his  book,  reclined,  in  what  seemed 
an  uneasy  posture,  a  boy  of  eleven  years,  whose 
attention  was  so  entirely  fixed  upon  the  book  he 
was  reading,  that  the  supper  had  been  on  the 
table,  partaken  of  by  the  others,  and  finished, 
while  he  had  not  heeded  the  various  calls  he  had 
received  to  join  the  meal ;  till  at  last  his  sister 
kindly  placed  his  supper  upon  the  settle  that 
stood  near,  and  screened  him  from  observation, 
till  she  had  induced  him  to  swallow  that  which 
his  mother  would  not  allow  him  wholly  to  neg 
lect.  Then  he  resumed  his  uneasy  position, 
kneeling  with  his  head  bent  over  the  book,  so 
that  his  hair  fell  over  and  completely  concealed 
his  countenance. 

The  supper  had  now  been  wholly  dismissed, 
the  hearth  swept,  and  additional  pine  knots 
heightened  the  cheerful  light  of  the  room.  The 
daughter  of  the  family  placed  the  Bible  and 
psalm-book  before  her  father,  and  the  farm  ser 
vants,  two  sturdy  and  staid  young  Puritans,  were 
summoned  from  the  outer  shed,  where  the  pa 
tient  cow  stood  to  be  relieved  of  her  fragrant 
and  delicious  burden,  when  a  slight  knock  was 
heard  at  the  door,  and,  without  waiting  for  a 
bidding,  the  latch  was  instantly  lifted. 

The  person  who  entered  was  welcomed  with 
deep  reverence,  but  with  no  loud  demonstrations 


NAOMI.  185 

of  joy.  His  face  was  nearly  concealed  by  a 
broad-brimmed,  flapping  hat.  He  was  slender 
and  thin,  with  deep-sunk  and  piercing  eyes,  a 
complexion  rather  brown  than  pale,  but  worn 
and  attenuated,  as  though  exhausted  with  severe 
labors  and  midnight  studies. 

Mr.  Eliot,  the  apostle  of  the  Indians,  had 
walked  from  his  residence  in  Roxbury  to  this 
remote  farm-house,  standing,  however,  within 
the  limits  of  his  parish ;  but  he  had  come  upon 
a  benevolent  errand,  a  message  of  hope,  that 
gave  to  his  countenance  an  expression  of  angelic 
goodness. 

He  was  immediately  relieved  of  his  heavy 
overcoat,  bound  around  his  waist  with  a  leathern 
belt,  and  when  his  hat  was  thrown  aside,  his 
hair,  cut  short  around 'his  neck,  presented  a  strik 
ing  contrast  to  the  fashion  of  the  period.  Mr. 
Eliot's  well-known  aversion  to  the  fashion  of 
the  day  was  strikingly  illustrated  by  his  own 
example.  After  the  fi?st  greetings  were  over, 
the  great  arm-chair  was  drawn  towards  the 
exhilarating  blaze  of  the  fire,  and  the  farmer, 
pointing  to  the  Bible,  invited  Mr.  Eliot  to  lead 
the  devotions  of  the  evening.  It  is  well  known 
how  fervent,  yet  how  familiar,  were  the  prayers 
of  this  eminent  apostle ;  that  he  was  gifted  with 
that  extraordinary  eloquence  which  raised  the 


186  NAOMI. 

soul  above  the  earth  and  placed  it  at  the  gate  of 
heaven  ;  and  yet  the  occupations  and  cares  of 
earth  were  not  left  behind,  but  elevated  and  sanc 
tified.  I  have  quoted  what  was  said  of  him  by  a 
contemporary,  that  his  lips  were  like  the  box  of 
precious  ointment  opened  by  Mary,  —  they  shed 
a  grateful  odor  over  the  common  affairs  of  life. 
From  his  prayer  an  attentive  listener  might  have 
learned  the  object  of  his  visit,  which  concerned 
the  youth,  who  sat  bent  over  his  book  with  such 
profound  attention  that  he  had  not  observed  the 
entrance  of  Mr.  Eliot,  and  had  only  laid  his 
book  aside  at  prayers  by  a  command  from  his 
mother.  But  when  Mr.  Eliot,  speaking  to  his 
father  in  a  low  voice,  mentioned  his  desire  to  take 
the  boy  under  his  own  instruction,  and  fit  him  to 
enter  college,  he  raised  and  turned  towards  him 
a  countenance  animated  with  hope  and  radi 
ant  with  intelligence.  Perceiving  that  he  was 
heard,  Mr.  Eliot  spoke  aloud  j  he  said  he  had 
observed  the  quickness, 'the  diligence,  and  prog 
ress  of  the  boy  at  the  common  school,  and  it 
would  be  opposing  the  leading  of  Providence  to 
let  him  languish  without  instruction.  If  God 
had  distinguished  him,  as  he  believed,  with  gifts, 
it  would  be  a  reproach  to  them  not  to  honor 
those  whom  God  had  honored.  He  came  to  pro 
pose  to  take  the  boy  into  his  own  family,  and 
to  complete  his  preparation  for  college. 


NAOMI.  187 

This  proposal  was  received  with  various  but 
strong  emotions  by  the  different  members  of  the 
family.  The  tender  mother  folded  her  hands,  as 
though  in  thankfulness,  and  looked  up  with  de 
vout  gratitude.  The  seriousness  of  the  father's 
face  deepened,  and  the  furrows  of  his  forehead 
contracted  almost  to  a  frown.  The  sister  drew 
near  her  brother  and  sat  down  on  the  corner  of 
the  settle  to  protect  him,  as  though  he  were  im 
mediately  to  be  taken  from  them.  But  the 
boy  himself,  his  beautiful  countenance  flushed 
with  joy,  threw  back  the  curls  that  shaded  his 
face,  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  Mr.  Eliot,  the  an 
gel  of  good  to  him ;  then,  observing  the  ominous 
silence  of  his  parents,  he  augured,  from  the  little 
alacrity  with  which  they  received  the  proposal,  a 
disappointment  of  his  hopes,  and  he  turned  away 
again,  and  burst  into  tears.  The  good,  he  felt, 
was  too  great  for  him  to  hope  for ;  the  expense 
would  be  too  enormous  for  his  parents  to  bear, 
and  the  momentary  exhilaration  of  hope  died 
away  within  his  breast  in  bitter  disappointment. 
The  father  gratefully,  but  with  decided  inde 
pendence,  declined  the  proposal  of  the  reverend 
gentleman.  An  imperative  reason  was,  that 
he  could  not  afford  to  spare  his  son's  labors 
from  the  farm.  None  of  his  family,  he  said,  had 
been  scholars  or  ministers  ;  they  had  been  of 


188  NAOMI. 

Adam's  profession,  tillers  of  the  ground;  their 
hands  were  hardened  to  the  plough-tail,  and 
could  scarcely  bend  to  the  pen  ;  and,  thank  God ! 
he  was  content  to  have  his  only  son  follow  the 
honest  calling  of  his  father ;  and  besides,  his 
own  opinion  was  that  a  pious  soul  could  be  as 
near  to  God  in  the  field,  under  the  open  sky,  as 
if  he  was  lifted  up  in  the  pulpit,  praying  under 
the  sounding-board  of  the  meeting-house. 

The  mother  had  hitherto  kept  silence,  al 
though  it  was  apparent  that  she  was  deeply 
moved.  At  length  she  said,  meekly,  —  "  He  is 
our  youngest,  the  last  born  of  many  sons,  who  are 
waiting  for  us  beyond  the  Jordan,  in  the  prom 
ised  land,  —  our  Benjamin !  In  my  prayers  I 
have  consecrated  him  to  the  service  of  God,  but 
it  would  be  beyond  our  deserts,  and  beyond  my 
hopes,  to  see  him  a  servant  of  the  church,  a 
minister  of  the  Gospel." 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Eliot,  turning  to  the  father, 
"  he  is  not  strong  enough  for  the  labors  of  the 
field  ;  a  hardy  hand  that  you  could  hire  would 
do  three  times  the  work  of  that  boy ;  his  frame 
is  fragile,  his  body  as  well  as  mind  too  tender 
for  hard  work  ;  he  would  break  down  under  the 
ploughshare."  And  Mr.  Eliot  soon  drew  from 
the  father  the  real  cause  of  his  opposition; 
which  was  the  fear  of  pecuniary  disability  to 


NAOMI.  189 

meet  the  expense ;  they  had  no  money  ;  they 
lived  without  luxuries,  upon  the  produce  of  the 
farm,  and  the  wife  and  daughter  spun  and  wove 
all  the  articles  of  their  clothing. 

"  Is  money  all  that  is  needed? "  said  the  other. 
"  Ah !  how  much  easier  is  it  to  find  money 
than  the  gifts  and  graces,"  he  added,  in  a  low 
voice,  "that  boy  will  bring  to  the  service  of 
the  church  !  " 

The  reverend  gentleman  that  afternoon  had 
called  upon  the  treasurer  and  received  his  half- 
year's  salary,  and  at  that  moment  it  was  tied  in 
his  pocket-handkerchief.  He  took  it  from  his 
pocket,  intending  to  present  the  boy  with  two  or 
three  crowns  ;  but,  after  trying  for  a  long  time  at 
the  knot,  he  could  not  loosen  it.  "  Ah !  "  said 
he  ;  "  God  means  you  should  have  it  all  "  ;  and 
he  threw  the  handkerchief  into  the  lap  of  the 
mother.* 

She  raised  her  eyes,  overflowing  with  tears,  to 
his  face ;  but  the  independent  father  stepped  for 
ward,  and,  taking  the  money  instantly  from  her 
hands,  returned  it  to  Mr.  Eliot. 

"  Take  it  as  a  loan,  I  beseech  you,"  said  Mr. 
Eliot ;  "  hire  another  hand  for  your  farm,  and  let 
that  boy  come  to  me.  He  shall  repay  me  ten 
fold  when  he  is  settled  in  God's  vineyard." 

*  An  authentic  incident. 


190  NAOMI. 

The  tender  and  pious  mother  would  fain  have 
told  of  answered  prayers,  that,  like  the  mother 
of  Samuel,  she  had  devoted  her  son  from  his 
birth  to  the  service  of  God,  —  that,  bereft  of  all 
her  other  sons,  she  had  prayed  for  this  one,  that 
she  might  give  him  back  again,  —  of  his  early 
docility,  and  how  she  had  fed  his  infant  mind 
with  stories  of  Joseph  and  David,  of  Jesus  and 
of  John,  so  that  from  his  birth  he  had  been  nour 
ished  upon  the  milk  of  the  word ;  but  Mr.  Eliot 
hastened  away  to  avoid  a  possibility  of  the  re 
turn  of  the  money,  and  to  spare  the  mother  all 
expression  of  gratitude.  The  farmer  followed 
him  out  of  the  door,  and  said,  —  "I  receive  that 
money,  reverend  Sir,  only  as  a  loan,  which  I 
shall  faithfully  appropriate,  and  by  the  strictest 
economy  will  soon  discharge  the  debt." 

"  My  friend,"  said  Mr.  Eliot,  "  do  not  be  un 
easy  j  the  boy  will  repay  me,  not  in  silver  coin, 
but  in  treasures  I  prize  more  highly.  I  shall 
not  miss  the  money  ;  I  am  well  provided.  If  I 
had  not  left  it  here,  the  knot  would  have  been 
just  as  hard  to  untie  at  the  next  house  I  entered. 
Your  wife  may  return  the  handkerchief  to  Mrs. 
Eliot.  I  left  it  by  accident  here,  you  know. 
Good  night !  " 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  courteous  reader  is  requested  to  return 
with  us,  eight  or  nine  years  later,  to  the  farm 
house  that  had  been  the  scene  of  the  transaction 
related  in  the  last  chapter.  It  was  then  Decem 
ber,  and  winter  had  shrouded  the  scene  in  a 
uniform  gloom  ;  it  is  now  July,  and  the  farm  is 
on  the  southern  or  sunny  side  of  the  peninsula 
of  Boston.  At  this  time  there  was  not  that  dif 
ference  between  the  northern  and  southern  as 
pects  of  the  surrounding  country  that  there  is  at 
the  present  day.  Chelsea,  Mystic,  and  Medford 
were  then  highly  cultivated  as  farms,  and  not 
wholly  stripped  of  their  noble  forests  as  we  see 
them  now.  We  are  happy  to  say,  that  cultiva 
tion  and  tasteful  floriculture  are  beginning  to 
make  the  northern  side  of  Boston  the  garden 
that  it  was  in  the  early  settlement  of  the  coun 
try.  The  town  of  Roxbury  possessed  beautiful 
farms,  but  beyond  that,  Brookline,  then  called 
Muddy  River,  deserved  not  the  appellation  of 
the  pleasure-garden  of  Norfolk,  although  its  wild 
beauties  far  surpassed  those  which  the  hand  of  man 
has  given  it  as  a  dowry.  It  was  principally  used 


192  NAOMI. 

for  grazing  cattle,  for  which  its  meadows  and 
sheltered  nooks  of  rich  pasturage  were  partic 
ularly  adapted.  At  this  time  there  were  a  few 
houses  at  what  was  afterwards  known  as  the 
Punch-Bowl  village,  and  a  road  from  thence  to 
Cambridge  ;  but  the  winding  lanes  leading  into 
the  beautiful  secluded  dells,  tapestried  so  richly 
with  wild  vines  and  all  the  treasures  of  Flora, 
were  then  undiscovered. 

At  the  time  of  our  tale,  in  1660,  upon  the 
road  leading  through  Roxbury  to  Dedham,  there 
stood  a  rude  stone,  upon  which  was  marked,  in 
still  ruder  letters,  "  To  Boston  5  miles."  A  few 
rods  before  reaching  this  mile-stone,  a  cart-path 
ran  off  upon  the  right  hand,  which,  if  the  trav 
eller  or  pedestrian  pursued  for  about  a  mile, 
brought  him  to  a  lovely  sheet  of  water,  set  like  a 
precious  gem  within  a  frame  of  gently  swelling 
land.  Upon  two  sides  the  hills  rose  to  a  mod 
erate  height,  and  were  clothed  to  the  top  with 
noble  hemlocks,  but  fringed  near  the  border  of 
the  lake  with  the  lighter  foliage  of  aspens  and 
weeping  birches,  that  hung  their  pensile  branch 
es  in  the  water.  The  perfect  beauty  and  trans 
parency  of  this  lovely  mirror  were  marvellous  to 
the  eye.  The  solitude  of  the  spot  made  it  the 
favorite  haunt  of  every  spring  and  summer  bird. 
Here  were  combined  all  the  softer  harmonies  of 


NAOMI.  193 

nature,  —  the  low  voice  of  the  wind  in  the  sum 
mer  foliage,  and  its  dirge-like  tone  as  it  vibrated 
in  the  branches  of  the  hemlock.  Here  were  the 
blackbird's  tender. whistle,  and  the  shriller  song 
of  the  golden  robin,  and  the  joyous  carol  of  the 
bobolink,  with  the  murmur  of  a  fresh,  sparkling 
brook  that  fed  the  lake,  and  which  entered  one 
side  with  so  much  force  as  to  send  the  little 
waves  rippling  with  a  silver  sound  upon  the 
sandy  beach  of  a  little  peninsula  that  broke  the 
uniformity  of  its  oval  shape. 

The  path  that  turned  off  at  the  mile-stone 
stopped  at  the  brook,  where  there  was  a  water 
ing-place  for  cattle  ;  but  another  path  turned  off 
at  the  brook  through  a  thicket  of  alder-bushes, 
and,  pursuing  the  margin  of  the  brook,  ascended 
a  rising  ground  of  cultivated  fields,  some  acres 
in  extent.  Here,  in  this  secluded  spot,  stood  the 
farm-house  that  Mr.  Eliot  visited  on  that  win 
ter's  evening,  when  the  blessing  of  his  presence 
and  his  readily  proffered  aid  diffused  a  joy  that 
had  not  yet  faded  away.  The  aspect  of  every 
thing  about  was  much  changed  since  then. 
Now  the  lovely  verdure  of  the  fields  rose  in 
gentle  swells  to  the  very  door-step,  cleared  of 
all  except  a  few  trees  near  the  house,  that  gave 
dignity  to  the  humble  roof.  Behind  the  house 
the  ground  rose  in  irregular  and  wooded  heights, 
13 


194  NAOMI. 

interspersed  with  masses  of  rock  piled  high  upon 
each  other,  fringed  in  all  their  fissures  with  del 
icate,  drooping,  and  various-colored  shrubs.  The 
brook  leaped  from  height  to  height,  fringing  its 
path  with  a  deeper  green,  and  as  it  reached  the 
meadow  spread  into  a  winding,  tranquil  stream, 
that  flowed  peacefully  on  to  the  lake.  All 
around  this  meadow-farm  was  the  unbroken 
forest,  the  wild  and  wooded  hill  behind,  and  the 
little  lake  in  front. 

The  time  of  which  we  write  was  the  early 
hay -harvest ;  the  scythe  had  done  its  work,  and 
the  fragrant  hay  was  lying  thickly  all  over  the 
field.  Every  thing  had  prospered  with  Mr. 
Walton  since  he  accepted  Mr.  Eliot's  money  as 
a  loan.  A  blessing  had  entered  with  the  good 
man's  gold.  The  house  was  humble,  but  every 
thing  was  in  the  neatest  order.  The  waving 
elms  seemed  to  give  a  dignity  to  the  lowly  roof, 
and  graciously  to  shelter  a  barn  and  inclosure 
on  the  east  side,  where  the  cows  stood  and  filled 
the  air  with  their  fragrant  breath. 

The  sun  had  now  descended  beneath  the 
wooded  height,  and  threw  the  whole  scene  in 
deep  shadow.  It  was  a  lovely  July  evening. 
A  young  woman  with  a  milk-pail  came  from  the 
eastern  door  of  the  farm-house,  where  there  was 
a  small  porch  furnished  with  wooden  seats,  but 


NAOMI.  195 

lingered  to  speak  to  a  youth  who  sat  upon  one 
of  the  benches,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  lake, 
now  reflecting  in  its  waveless  calm  all  the  rich 
and  changing  colors  of  the  western  sky,  that 
were  hidden  by  the  cliff  from  his  view. 

It  is  the  same  youth  we  have  seen  before  at 
the  farmer's  fireside ;  but  by  the  noiseless  flight 
of  years  the  youth  has  become  a  serious  man. 
The  color  of  his  flaxen  locks  has  deepened  to 
dark  chestnut,  clustering  around  a  brown  but 
richly  colored  complexion.  The  liquid  and  spir 
itual  eye  that  charmed  Mr.  Eliot  has  not  changed, 
but  deepened,  in  its  expression;  and  together 
with  the  gathered  thought  upon  the  brow  there 
is  mingled  a  sadness  that  attracts  one  to  look 
into  its  depths,  where  are  centred  tears  gath 
ered  from  the  heart.  The  boy  had  indeed  wept, 
for  before  he  had  been  one  year  in  college  he 
lost  the  tender  mother  to  whom  he  owed  so 
much. 

He  had  pursued  his  studies  with  enthusiasm  ; 
had  repaid  in  a  tenfold  degree  with  hope  and 
expectation  the  Rev.  Mr.  Eliot's  loan.  As  I 
have  before  said,  Mr.  Walton's  improved  hus 
bandry  and  the  blessing  that  seemed  to  follow 
all  his  labors  had  enabled  him  to  repay  the 
money  ;  but  Mr.  Eliot,  although  obliged,  as  he 
said,  to  receive  back  the  dross,  which  he  soon 


196  NAOMI. 

gave  away  again,  looked  only  to  spiritual  gifts 
and  graces  for  his  reward. 

During  the  last  year  of  Herbert's  college  life, 
which  was  now  drawing  to  a  close,  without  any 
apparent  cause  he  seemed  to  lose  all  his  buoyant 
vivacity  ;  care  sat  upon  his  youthful  brow  ;  he 
had  suddenly  accumulated  upon  himself  the 
thoughtfulness  of  years.  His  friends  believed 
his  ambition  was  deeply  engaged,  and  that  it 
was  anxiety  lest  he  should  disappoint  himself 
and  others  at  the  approaching  Commencement 
which  clouded  his  brow. 

"  He  drives  his  plough  too  deep  into  the  soil," 
said  his  father  ;  "  his  soul  is  all  furrowed  by  the 
cares  that  belong  only  to  philosophers  and  aged 
men.  Ah  !  it  would  have  been  better  if  he  had 
been  content  with  the  plough  his  father  taught 
him  to  hold,  and  have  left  the  sloughs  of  met 
aphysics  to  older  heads." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  is  that,"  said  the  sister, 
who  was  five  years  older  than  Herbert  and 
watched  over  him  with  the  solicitude  of  a 
mother ;  "I  have  never  heard  him  say  so,  but 
he  feels  a  disinclination  to  the  profession  to 
which  he  is  destined.  From  the  cradle  our 
mother  consecrated  him  to  the  church,  and  Mr. 
Eliot  has  riveted  upon  his  conscience  the  duty 
of  giving  himself  to  the  ministry.  He  loved  it 


NAOMI.  197 

at  first ;  but  now  he  associates  with  the  ministry 
the  persecution  of  heretics,  the  branding  and 
hanging  of  Quakers,  all  which  his  generous  soul 
abhors." 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  old  farmer  with  a  sigh, 
"  man  arranges,  but  God  disposes." 

This  conversation  between  the  father  and 
daughter  occurred  a  few  days  before  this  even 
ing,  when  Herbert  was  at  home  previous  to  the 
annual  Commencement,  which  was  to  take  place 
in  a  few  weeks.  Herbert  had  received  the  high 
est  honor  in  the  gift  of  the  government,  in  ac 
knowledgment  of  his  diligence  and  scholarship. 
The  Valedictory  was  then  the  highest  part,  and 
had  been  assigned  to  him. 

"  I  shall  disappoint  every  one,"  Herbert  said 
to  his  sister,  as  she  lingered  a  moment  by  him 
with  the  milk-pail  in  her  hand;  "  and  what 
would  my  father  say  if  I  were  to  resolve  never 
to  mount  the  pulpit-stairs  ?  " 

"  He  will  not  be  so  deeply  grieved  as  would 
have  been  our  mother,"  said  his  sister. 

"  No,  thank  God !  her  heart  will  never  be 
wrung  by  the  ingratitude  of  her  son,"  he  said. 

"  Do  not  call  your  scruples  by  so  harsh  a 
name,"  said  his  sister.  "  Your  doubts,  what 
ever  they  arise  from,"  she  added  soothingly, 
"  are  involuntary." 


198  NAOMI. 

Herbert  was  suffering  under  the  painful  con 
sciousness  that  he  had  made  a  mistake.  He 
had  believed  himself,  and  had  suffered  his 
friends  to  believe,  and  his  education  had  been 
carried  on  with  the  conviction,  that  he  was 
to  fill  the  sacred  office.  But  as  he  learned  more 
of  the  theology  of  the  period,  and  felt  the 
persecuting  spirit  of  the  church,  his  whole  soul 
revolted  from  ever  belonging  to  that  body.  His 
nature  was  genial  and  easily  excited  to  enthu 
siasm  ;  his  soul  was  full  of  a  natural  piety,  and 
he  now  feared  he  had  mistaken  the  glow  of 
youthful  feeling,  and  the  ardor  he  felt  for  all 
pursuits  connected  with  that  learned  profession, 
as  a  decided  call  and  predilection  for  the  pro 
fession  itself.  He  resolved  in  his  own  mind, 
without  asking  advice  of  any  one,  to  give  some 
intimation  of  his  change  of  feeling  in  the  ad 
dress  assigned  to  him  on  Commencement  day. 

Herbert  sat  upon  the  settle,  sunk  deeply  in 
thought,  and  in  the  consideration  of  means  to 
extricate  himself  from  the  dilemma  in  which 
his  conscientiousness  had  involved  him,  till  the 
beautiful  lights  of  evening,  as  they  faded  in  the 
western  horizon,  faded  also  in  that  calm  mirror 
which  seemed  placed  there  on  purpose  to  reflect 
them.  One  by  one  the  stars  came  out,  and 
were  seen  in  the  depths  of  the  lake  more  bril- 


NAOMI.  199 

liant,  more  tangible  as  it  were,  than  in  the 
heavens.  The  solemn  psalmody  of  nature  be 
gan,  —  those  mysterious  and  incomprehensible 
sounds  of  the  breathing,  but  inanimate  nature, 
that  fill  the  soul  with  sympathy,  and  at .  the 
same  moment  with  awe. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

"  Life  is  before  ye  ! 

Gird  up  your  souls  within  you  to  the  deed, 
Angels  and  fellow-spirits  bid  ye  speed  !" 

FANNY  KEMBLE  BUTLER. 

IN  the  middle  of  the  burning  heat  of  sum 
mer  occurred  a  festival  that  deeply  interest 
ed  our  fathers.  It  was  the  annual  Commence 
ment  at  Cambridge.  The  College  was  yet 
in  its  infancy, — *an  infancy  cruelly  neglected 
by  its  parent,  the  State.  It  was  indebted  to 
strangers,  and  to  the  noble  province  of  New 
Hampshire,  for  "  shielding  its  looped  and  win 
dowed  "  poverty.  Its  building,  although  only  a 
quarter  of  a  century  old,  was  already  dilapidated  ; 
its  officers  suffering  from  poverty ;  its  commons 
poor  and  scanty.  Yet  here  were  gathered  the 
spiritual  riches  of  the  people,  the  hopes  of  the 
church,  —  outward  poverty,  with  intellectual 
riches,  —  ardent  and  generous  youths,  submitting 
to  temporal  hardships,  devoting  themselves  to  an 
ascetic  life,  for  the  sake  of  spiritual  wealth. 

The  exercises  of  Commencement  were  princi 
pally  religious,  but  they  were  not  the  less  at 
tended  and  listened  to  by  all  the  elite  of  Boston 


NAOMI.  201 

and  the  surrounding  country.  Commencement 
was  not,  indeed,  then,  as  it  became  in  the  next 
centmy,  an  occasion  for  the  ostentatious  display 
of  gayety  and  fashion,  prepared  for  weeks  before 
hand,  and  remembered  as  the  one  great  festival 
of  the  year ;  but  it  was,  among  the  few  holidays 
that  our  fathers  permitted  themselves  to  enjoy, 
that  one  most  filled  with  pride  and  hope. 

Mr.  Aldersey's  family  rose  early  on  Com 
mencement  day,  and  prepared  for  an  excursion 
in  which  the  whole  day  would  be  consumed,  — 
the  forenoon  being  occupied  by  the  graduates, 
the  afternoon  by  the  masters  of  arts.  Ruth  had 
been  permitted,  for  the  first  time,  to  partake  of 
the  pleasures  of  a  festival,  certainly  more  suited 
to  old  theologians  than  to  young  girls.  As  they 
walked  down  to  the  boat,  their  company  con 
sisting  of  Mr.  Aldersey  and  his  two  daughters, 
with  Sambo  as  an  attendant,  the  dew  that  hung 
thick  upon  the  western  side  of  Beacon  Hill  dif 
fused  a  delicious  coolness  through  the  air,  and  a 
grateful  perfume  from  the  shrubs  that  grew  pro 
fusely  upon  that  side,  nearly  covering  the  whole 
descent  with  alder,  the  low  blueberry,  the  wax- 
like  arbutus,  and  trailing  blackberry,  the  rose- 
colored  spirea,  the  sweet-scented  clethra,  the 
various  species  of  asclepias,  while  in  the  little 
rivulets  that  ran  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  the  cardi 
nal-flower  added  a  rich  fringe  of  scarlet. 


202  NAOMI. 

It  was,  midsummer  j  every  tree,  shrub,  and 
flower  had  attained  its  perfection  of  beauty  and 
finish,  its  highest  point  of  development;  the 
fields  of  wheat  along  the  river  were  ripe  for 
the  sickle  j  the  grass  that  had  not  already  yield 
ed  to  the  scythe  podded  with  heavy,  ripened 
head ;  the  clover  emitted  its  last  faint  fragrance, 
as  it  hung  its  full  and  sleepy  blossom.  The  In 
dian  corn  alone  waved  its  glossy  and  polished 
blade,  rejoicing  in  a  tropical  heat.  The  trees  had 
attained  their  deepest  green ;  the  next  change 
must  be  decay.  One  could  but  look  with  a  feel 
ing  of  melancholy  upon  this  full  perfection  that 
could  not  be  surpassed,  and  ask,  Was  it  in  the 
moral  as  in  the  physical  world  ?  When  man  had 
done  his  work  and  ripened  the  fruit  of  his  en 
deavour,  must  he  also  decay  ?  When  beauty  is 
perfect,  must  it  fall  into  dust  ?  Thank  God  for 
the  answer  !  —  Another  spring  will  again  surpass 
all  this  beauty,  and  for  the  soul  of  man  there  is 
a  perpetual  spring. 

The  party  had  taken  boat  early,  on  account  of 
the  morning  tide,  and  the  shadows  of  tree  and 
shrub  lay  motionless  upon  the  hill-side  before  the 
burning  sun  had  drank  up  the  dew.  The  blue  and 
placid  water  that  bore  their  boat,  and  the  wood 
ed  scenery  of  the  shore  they  were  approaching, 
lay  in  serenest  repose,  as  though  offering  their 


NAOMI.  203 

fresh  and  virgin  beauty  to  the  burning  rays  of  this 
fierce,  relentless  sun  of  summer.  They  landed, 
crossed  the  principal  street,  and  came  upon  ^he 
plain  where  was  situated  the  rather  spacious,  al 
though  unfinished,  college  hall.  A  large  number 
of  persons  were  already  collected  upon  the  plain. 
Our  fathers  did  not  forbid  on  this  occasion  the 
sale  of  cakes  and  ale,  and  such  refreshments  as 
weary  sojourners  for  a  long  summer  day  might 
need. 

They  had  not  waited  long  when  the  sound  of 
drum  and  fife  announced  the  approach  of  the 
governor,  escorted  by  his  halberdiers  and  guards. 
They  entered  the  south  porch  of  the  college, 
consisting  then  of  one  poor  building  of  two 
stories,  whose  only  embellishment  was  a  walk 
shaded  by  noble  trees.  This  college  hall,  like 
all  the  buildings  of  the  period,  belonged,  if  it 
could  be  said  to  have  any  order,  to  the  Eliza 
bethan  style  of  architecture.  It  had  a  dark  and 
sinister  aspect.  The  first  story,  projecting  far 
over  the  ground-floor,  threw  the  latter  into  deep 
shadow,  and  the  small  diamond-paned  and  lead 
ed  windows  added  to  the  gloom,  rather  than  en 
lightened  the  rooms  within.  The  roof  on  all 
sides  was  covered  with  gables  or  projecting  an 
gles,  each  containing  one  small  window  of  lead 
ed  panes  to  enlighten  the  dormitories  of  stu- 


204  NAOMI. 

dents  and  fellows.  This  building  contained  the 
kitchens,  a  dining-hall,  the  small  and  meagre 
libi^ry  and  dormitories  for  the  tutors  and,  as  yet, 
not  numerous  students.  Those  who  could  not 
find  room  in  the  hall  were  lodged  in  the  neigh 
bouring  houses ;  but  no  student  was  allowed  to 
take  a  meal  in  other  than  the  college  buttery.* 

A  procession  was  soon  formed ;  the  under 
graduates,  or  college  youths,  generous,  spirited, 
but  rash  and  impulsive,  then,  as  now,  the  hope 
of  the  country,  in  their  gowns,  bareheaded, 
came  first,  followed  by  the  masters  of  arts,  a 
little  more  mature  in  appearance,  also  bare 
headed  ;  the  president  and  fellows,  in  their  square 
caps  ;  then  the  governor  with  his  guards  ;  the 
clergy,  a  numerous  body  of  black  cassocks,  fol 
lowing  the  somewhat  brilliant  cortege  of  the 
governor.  It  must  be  remembered  that  much 
more  attention  was  given  to  costume  at  that  pe 
riod  than  at  the  present  day  ;  the  dresses  of  all 
classes  were  much  more  picturesque,  and  what 
was  wanting  in  numbers  was  made  up  in  form. 

"  The  beauty  and  fashion  "  of  the  neighbour 
ing  city  (as  is  the  phrase  at  the  present  day) 
were  already  collected  beneath  the  bare  rafters  of 
the  primitive  meeting-house.  Chivalry,  or  gal- 

*  Quincy's  History  of  Harvard  College. 


NAOMI.  205 

lantry  to  the  other  sex,  was  not  the  characteristic 
of  our  Puritan  fathers ;  the  body  of  the  house, 
that  is,  all  the  seats  upon  the  floor,  and  the  front 
seats  of  the  gallery,  were  reserved  for  the  proces 
sion  ;  the  ladies  found  seats  as  they  best  could 
around  the  walls,  where  their  gay  dresses  and 
unveiled  faces  were  thrown  quite  into  the  shade 
by  the  great  body  of  dark-draperied  men. 

The  exercises  of  Commencement  day  were 
almost  wholly  religious.  The  venerable  Presi 
dent  Chauncy,  that  much-suifering  man,  bowed 
down  with  age,  illness,  and  privations,  after  an 
opening  prayer,  addressed  the  governor  and  the 
legislature  in  Latin,  humbly  pleading  the  claims 
of  the  college,  and  humbly  expressing  unmerited 
gratitude  for  their  hard- wrung  and  niggardly  aid. 
Then  came  the  performances  of  the  graduating 
class,  in  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew.  The  last 
oration,  however,  the  Valedictory  of  the  class, 
was  in  "  lingua  vernacula,"  the  mother  English. 

A  lively  interest  had  been  excited  for  the  youth 
who  was  to  close  the  morning  exercises.  The 
circumstances  of  his  early  neglect  and  his  later 
intelligence  had  become  known,  as  well  as  the 
accident  by  which  he  became  a  protege  of  the 
reverend  apostle  of  the  Indians.  His  brilliant 
talents  were  spoken  of,  his  persevering  industry 
commended,  and  one  expected  to  see  a  mature 


206  NAOMI. 

man,  almost  a  gray -beard,  as  much  in  advance 
of  the  class  in  age  as  in  reputation.  When, 
therefore,  the  youth  of  the  farm-house  stepped 
upon  the  stage  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  the  strange 
union  of  deep  intelligence  and  almost  childlike 
beauty,  a  figure  of  extreme  youthfulness  and  a 
countenance  inspired  by  genius,  caused  a  silence 
of  lively  and  profound  attention.  The  liquid 
hazel  of  his  eyes  flashed  from  their  depths  a 
thoughtful  and  radiant  light.  But  the  most  at 
tractive  charm  of  the  peculiar  impression  he 
made  upon  the  audience  was  the  entire  uncon 
sciousness  of  any  superiority  in  himself;  the 
simplicity  and  even  timidity  with  which  he 
stood  before  them,  "  serene  in  youthful  beauty," 
and  eloquent  with  nature  and  deep-felt  truth. 

Our  New  England  fathers  at  that  time  yielded 
deep  reverence  but  to  one  source  of  inspiration, 
one  fountain  of  truth  ;  the  faith  that  inspired 
them  and  the  armor  that  protected  them  were 
found  between  the  two  covers  of  the  Bible  ;  — 
that  elder  scripture  that  was  all  around  them, 
in  the  boundless  forest,  and  in  the  old,  mys 
terious  ocean,  —  above  them,  in  countless  worlds 
of  light,  —  served  to  make  no  profound  impres 
sion  on  souls  trained  in  the  old  doctrinal  theology. 
The  Bible  was  all  to  them.  When,  therefore, 
this  young  disciple,  with  the  timid  blushes  of 


NAOMI.  207 

youthful  inexperience,  stood  before  them  and 
spoke  of  truths  drawn  from  his  own  conscious 
ness,  and  illustrated  by  reference  to  nature  and 
the  wonderful  works  of  God,  the  fathers  looked 
grave,  and  the  more  strictly  orthodox  frowned. 
Yet  they  could  not  withhold  their  attention 
from  his  inspired  eye  and  eloquent  lip,  when 
he  spoke  of  the  sufficiency  of  the  voice  of  God 
in  the  soul ;  of  the  immediate  communion  of 
God  with  the  human  soul,  without  the  need  of 
the  intervention  of  human  councils  or  creeds  of 
man's  devising. 

The  ladies,  indeed,  especially  the  young,  were 
not  withheld  from  admiration  by  the  fear  of 
theological  heresies ;  they  regarded  him  with 
enraptured  attention,  and  gave  themselves  gen 
erously  up  to  the  enthusiasm  his  youthful  beauty 
and  fervid  eloquence  inspired. 

He  spoke  directly  to  the  consciousness  of 
Naomi.  Every  throb  of  her  heart  answered  to 
the  living  words  as  they  flowed  from  his  lips. 
Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his,  and  her  usually 
fair  cheek  had  become  pale  with  emotion,  and 
a  tear  trembled  on  her  eyelid.  She  and  her 
sister  sat  at  the  extremest  distance  of  the  house, 
the  sparkling  and  blooming  countenance  of  Ruth 
forming  a  striking  contrast  with  her  serene  and 
thoughtful  face. 


208  NAOMI. 

Herbert  had  seen  no  ladies  except  his  sister 
and  his  mother ;  he  had  often  dreamed  of  an 
gels,  but  he  was  ignorant  that  such  living  faces 
as  Naomi's  ever  existed.  I  do  not  speak  of  her 
beauty,  but  of  the  soul  of  her  expression. 
Towards  the  close  of  his  oration  his  eye  fell 
upon  the  group,  and  met  that  fair,  serene,  and 
deeply  thoughtful  gaze  fixed  upon  himself. 
The  effect  was  instantaneous  and  electrical ;  his 
heart  seemed  to  pause  from  its  beating,  a  deep 
crimson  overspread  his  countenance  ;  he  trem 
bled,  and  lost  the  thread  of  his  oration.  In 
stantly  he  rallied  himself,  and  the  audience  sup 
posed  that  his  memory  had  for  a  moment  failed. 
Herbert  dared  not  look  towards  that  group  again, 
but  in  that  one  glance  was  revealed  to  him  the 
spirit  of  beauty  that  had  haunted  him  from  his 
infancy,  —  that  which  he  had  sighed  for  in  vain, 
and  had  never  hoped  to  meet,  —  his  own  ideal 
was  revealed  in  a  living  form,  an  angel's  face. 
That  which  within  him  he  had  loved  and  cher 
ished,  and  unconsciously  had  thought  a  part  of 
himself,  had  taken  the  form  of  beauty  and  dwelt 
without  him,  distant,  perhaps,  and  never  again  to 
meet  his  mortal  eye.  Who  was  she  ?  from 
whence  did  she  come  ?  where  was  her  abode  ? 
were  questions  that  passed  quick  as  thought 
through  his  mind.  There  was  no  time  to  ob- 


NAOMI.  209 

tain  an  answer.  Fortunately  for  himself,  he  had 
pronounced  the  last  words  of  his  discourse. 
There  were  no  plaudits  on  these  occasions,  as 
the  character  of  the  performances  in  these  early 
days  was  too  strictly  religious.  At  the  instant 
he  finished,  his  eye  sought  again  that  beau 
tiful  and  serene  countenance,  but  by  the  general 
movement  of  the  audience  Naomi  was  hidden 
from  his  view. 

In  a  peculiar  state  of  the  nerves,  as  soon  as 
the  eyes  are  closed,  a  far-off  and  luminous  star 
appears  as  the  focus  of  surrounding  darkness. 
Herbert  thought  that  if  that  face  never  met  his 
gaze  again,  it  would  remain,  like  a  beautiful  star, 
for  ever  the  centre  to  which  his  memory  would 
turn.  He  was  detained  till  the  audience  were 
dismissed,  and  then  he  followed  instantly  the 
retreating  groups.  One  thought  only  influenced 
his  quick  and  excited  motions  as  he  rushed 
through  the  crowds ;  congratulations,  delicate 
ly  implied  dissent,  concealed  irony,  regarding 
his  performance,  all  were  disregarded  j  his  sole 
object  was  to  overtake  that  beautiful  counte 
nance  ;  disappointment  succeeded,  for  he  saw 
only  the  robes  of  the  sisters  as  the  door  of  a 
house  was  closed  upon  their  retreating  forms. 
"  In  the  afternoon,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  at  the 
performances  of  the  masters  of  arts,  I  shall  have 
14 


210  NAOMI. 

no  other  object,  and  I  shall  have  leisure  to  see  if 
my  imagination  has  bewildered  my  eyesight,  or 
if  it  be  a  reality." 

In  vain,  —  for  Mr.  Aldersey  considered  his 
duty  performed  by  showing  himself  in  the  fore 
noon,  and  had  gone  with  his  daughters  to  his 
boat  immediately  after  the  exercises  of  the  grad 
uates,  thus  robbing  the  old  rafters  of  the  church 
of  the  two  beautiful  countenances  that  had  illu 
mined  them  in  the  morning. 

Upon  their  return  to  Boston,  Ruth's  raptures 
respecting  the  last  performance  were  somewhat 
checked  by  the  stern  countenance  of  her  father. 
The  beauty  of  the  young  scholar,  however, 
could  not  be  wholly  denied.  There  was  no 
heresy,  Ruth  said,  in  those  soul-illumined  eyes ; 
there  was  even  religion,  she  thought,  in  the 
hair  that  clustered  round  his  noble  head  j  it  was 
like  the  pictures  she  had  seen  of  the  saints  ; 
and  she  looked  at  Naomi  for  sympathy.  Naomi 
was  just  then  observing  attentively  something 
in  the  water,  and  Ruth  appealed  again  to  her 
father ;  but  he  turned  from  her  with  a  contempt 
uous  "  Pshaw  !  "  Child  as  she  was,  could  she 
expect  her  young-lady-like  raptures  to  meet  with 
sympathy  from  the  stern  Puritan  ? 

Mr.  Aldersey  was  much  out  of  humor.  He 
had  expected  the  President  to  invite  him  to  dine  ; 


NAOMI.  211 

he  would  thus  have  remained  to  the  afternoon 
performances  ;  but  he  had  been  one  of  the  dep 
uties  who  had  voted  to  reject  the  petition  of  the 
venerable  Chauncy  for  an  adequate  support  in 
his  old  age,  and  although  the  President  was  too 
mild,  and  long-suffering,  and  truly  Christian  to 
feel  resentment,  yet,  with  his  meagre  living,  he 
did  not  feel  bound  to  invite  the  family  of  his 
opponent  to  the  hospitality  of  his  house. 

Mr.  Aldersey's  displeasure  was  now  freely  ex 
pressed.  It  was  his  opinion  that  Herbert  had 
inevitably  ruined  himself,  and  had  given  unpar 
donable  offence  to  the  clergy,  especially  to  his 
patron  Mr.  Eliot.  He  recollected  and  repeated 
some  of  his  strongest  expressions.  "  '  From  the 
clusters  of  the  vine  of  persecution  that  has  taken 
root  in  the  church,  you  have  wrung  out  blood 
rather  than  wine.'  What  did  the  irreverent  boy 
mean  by  that  ? "  he  asked.  Naomi  said  she 
thought  his  meaning  was  plain ;  he  referred  to 
the  horrible  cruelties  that  had  been  inflicted 
upon  the  Quakers.  Mr.  Aldersey  answered  only 
by  a  sneer. 

"  And  what  did  the  foolish  boy  mean  by  say 
ing  '  that  he  could  not  wear  the  grim  cassock 
that  was  lined  with  persecution  for  mere  opin 
ions  '  ?  The  Quakers  had  been  punished  for 
blasphemous  acts." 


212  NAOMI. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Naomi,  "  he  referred  to  Mrs. 
Hutchinson  and  her  brother,"  —  who  had  been 
banished  from  Massachusetts  a  few  years  before. 

Mr.  Aldersey  had  taken  the  popular  side 
at  that  time,  and  would  not  act  with  the  few 
sterner  spirits  who  were  for  severe  measures. 
He  was  then  a  young  man,  and  had  sided 
with  the  townspeople  of  Boston,  and  not  with 
the  clergy  and  court  that  exiled  them.  His 
features  softened,  for  Naomi,  without  being  her 
self  conscious  of  the  flattery,  had  caressed  one  of 
his  most  obstinate  opinions,  —  that  the  church, 
and  especially  their  favorite  Cotton,  were  inquis 
itors  in  their  treatment  of  Mrs.  Hutchinson. 

Ruth  said,  she  thought  he  meant  that  he 
did  not  intend  to  put  on  the  cassock  in  any 
sense.  He  did  not  intend  to  be  a  minister,  and, 
for  her  part,  she  thought  he  was  right. 

This  was  a  latitude  of  interpretation  that  had 
not  entered  into  the  conception  of  Mr.  Aldersey. 
To  be  educated  at  the  college  whose  seal  was 
inscribed  "  For  Christ  and  the  Church"  and  yet 
desert  the  ministry,  was  a  delinquency  he  was 
not  prepared  to  contemplate.  It  was  enough  for 
him  that  the  Quakers  at  present  filled  up  the 
pages  of  his  book  of  criminal  discipline. 

Naomi  felt,  almost  unconsciously,  it  was  so 
kindred  to  her  own  mind,  the  deepest  sympa- 


NAOMI.  213 

thy  for  this  ingenuous  and  noble-minded  youth. 
She  saw  before  him  a  life  of  perplexity,  if  he 
did  indeed  enter  the  ministry,  and  remained  true 
to  his  convictions  and  faithful  in  declaring  what 
seemed  to  him  the  truth.  She  felt  an  inex 
plicable  interest  in  him.  She  wished  she  were 
his  sister,  his  elder  sister,  that  she  might  have  a 
right  to  offer  him  her  sympathy,  her  approba 
tion,  and  encouragement.  She  felt  as  though 
she  was  much  the  older  in  years  and  in  expe 
rience.  They  were  in  fact  of  the  same  age ; 
but  a  woman  is  more  mature  at  twenty  than  a 
man  of  the  same  number  of  years.  Afterwards, 
a  man  of  genius  gains  rapidly  upon  a  woman, 
who  possesses  only  the  receptive  qualities  of 
genius. 

The  oarsmen  were  obliged  to  bend  themselves 
to  their  oars  ;  there  was  not  a  breath  of  air,  and 
the  whole  country  lay  faint  and  panting  under 
the  burning  sun.  Nature  seemed  to  pause  in  a 
breathless  stillness,  exhausted  by  the  glaring  heat 
poured  all  day  from  a  perfectly  cloudless  sky. 
The  Indian  corn,  so  perfect  in  the  morning,  like 
a  body  of  glowing  emerald,  was  now  wilted,  its 
leaves  curled  and  crisped  j  the  wild-flowers  had 
closed  their  cups,  shutting  out  the  never-weary 
bee  ;  the  birds  were  silent,  the  cattle  lay  panting 
under  the  shade,  or  stood  with  their  limbs  cov- 


214  NAOMI. 

ered  in  the  cooling  streams;  thick  drops,  like 
beads,  started  upon  the  brows  of  the  rowers,  and 
their  panting  breasts  were  covered  with  streams 
of  water  ;  in  the  north  rose  a  dark  but  welcome 
cloud,  from  whose  womb  the  frequent  lightning 
flashed. 

The  boat  now  touched  the  little  wharf  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs  behind  Beacon  Hill.  The 
whole  party  pursued  their  way  in  silence  through 
the  burning  heat  of  the  sun  to  Mr.  Alder- 
sey's  house,  in  the  main  or  Washington  Street, 
over  that  part  of  the  hill  afterwards  called  Pem- 
berton's,  and  through  Court  Street,  to  where 
the  patient,  ever-ready,  and  consequently  ever- 
waiting  Faith  received  them  at  the  door  with 
her  cheerful,  sunshiny  welcome.  She  helped 
the  young  ladies  to  unfasten  their  masks,  always 
worn  upon  the  water  ;  then  assisted  Mr.  Alder- 
sey  to  divest  himself  of  his  velvet  dress-coat, 
and  brought  him  his  thin  calico  gown.  She 
opened  the  sashes  into  the  orchard,  now  lying  in 
shadow  behind  the  house.  There  came  a  faint 
odor  from  the  few  wilted  flowers  that  lingered 
on  the  white-rosebush,  and  Faith  perceived  the 
wind  had  changed  •  it  was  slightly  east,  and  the 
black  cloud  had  now  spread  through  the  whole 
atmosphere.  The  garden  lay  panting  beneath 
the  leaden  pressure  ;  large  drops  began  at  length 


NAOMI.  215 

to  fall,  with  a  sound  like  sudden  kisses,  upon  the 
foliage  ;  they  became  very  soon  more  frequent, 
and  then  the  full,  refreshing  stream  poured  down ; 
the  fountains  were  opened  ;  ;never  were  streams 
glittering  in  the  sunbeams  so  refreshing,  nor  the 
graceful  fountain  so  beautiful,  as  these  full,  dark 
streams  of  running  water.  They  fell  full  and 
pattering,  like  thousands  of  spent  bullets,  on  the 
roofs ;  the  spouts  from  eaves,  windows,  and  door- 
sills  poured  like  horizontal  fountains  ;  the  garden- 
paths  were  full  of  water,  and'  the  stones  in  the 
front  yard  assumed,  under  the  polish  of  the  water, 
the  appearance  of  precious  stones,  —  rubies,  em 
eralds,  and  garnets.  The  shower  passed  along, 
and  the  bright  azure  again  appeared,  but  it  left 
a  delightful  coolness  in  the  air  ;  the  garden  re 
vived  beneath  its  refreshing  power ;  a  drop  of 
crystal  hung  upon  every  tiny  leaf;  the  birds, 
that  yet  haunted  the  rural  gardens  of  the  town, 
burst  out  in  joyful  notes ;  the  cows  feeding  upon 
the  common  lowed  gratefully  ;  nature  and  man 
felt  the  reviving  gift,  —  a  blessing  from  the  cool 
upper  regions  of  the  atmosphere  upon  the  parched 
and  sultry  day. 

They  sat  down  to  a  late  and  slight  repast, 
for  Mr.  Aldersey,  expecting  to  dine  at  Cam 
bridge,  had  left  orders  that  no  dinner  should  be 
cooked.  Faith,  however,  was  never  unprovided. 


216 


NAOMI. 


Tarts  from  summer  fruits,  and  the  wild  straw 
berries  brought  in  abundance  by  the  Indian  wo 
men  to  their  liberal  friend,  formed  a  delicious 
refreshment  after  a  weary  and  lengthened  fast. 

While  they  were  enjoying  the  luxury  of  re 
pose  and  of  their  cooling  fruits,  Ruth  said,  now 
that  the  business  of  summer  was  over,  meaning 
Commencement,  it  was  time  to  think  of  mak 
ing  preparation  for  their  journey  to  Connect 
icut.  _ 

Mr.  Aldersey  frowned.  He  knew  that  it  was 
a  warm  wish  of  Naomi's  to  visit  her  mother's 
and  her  own  friend,  Mr.  Winthrop,  the  gov 
ernor  of  Connecticut,  and  he  had  given  his  full 
consent  to  the  journey  ;  the  escort,  even,  had 
been  hired,  and  he  had  had  several  conversa 
tions  with  an  Indian  that  he  had  engaged  for 
their  guide,  about  the  route,  the  rivers,  the  ford- 
ing-places,  and  the  mountains.  But  it  was  Mr. 
Aldersey's  habit,  as  it  is  that  of  many  others,  to 
enhance  the  value  of  all  his  favors  by  having 
them  reluctantly  wrung  from  him.  He  had 
even  gone  so  far  as  to  send  to  England  for  a 
well-trained  lady's  horse  to  serve  Naomi  on  the 
journey. 

Naomi  looked  up  from  the  strawberries  she 
was  eating,  and  asked  her  step-father  if  there 
was  any  chance  of  the  horse  arriving  in  season ; 


NAOMI.  217 

for  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  begin  their  jour 
ney  by  the  first  of  September. 

"  You  ought  to  set  out  to-morrow,"  he  an 
swered,  "  to  have  your  journey  safely  over  be 
fore  winter." 

"  But  the  horse  ?  "  said  Naomi. 

Mr.  Aldersey  made  no  answer,  and  after  re 
turning  thanks  he  rose  from  the  table,  and  be 
gan  to  put  on  again  his  coat. 

"  But,  father,  you  are  not  going  out  again  ?  " 
said  Ruth. 

Yes,  he  was  going  to  the  wharf.  A  small 
vessel  had  arrived,  and  he  had  received  informa 
tion  that  Naomi's  horse  had  been  shipped  in  it. 
He  was  going  to  see,  for  he  supposed  the  beast 
had  broken  his  legs  or  his  neck  by  being  shipped 
in  an  improper  vessel.  His  manner  was  alto 
gether  ungracious.  There  are  people  who  do 
kind  and  benevolent  deeds,  but  spoil  them  by 
the  ungracious  manner  in  which  they  are  per 
formed.  Such  people  excite  our  pity,  for  they 
unconsciously  rob  themselves  of  the  gratitude 
that  kindness  should  receive  as  its  reward.  Such 
charity  is  not  "  twice  blessed  "  ;  the  giver  robs 
himself  of  the  blessing  attending  the  gift. 

As  soon  as  the  door  closed  behind  Mr.  Alder 
sey,  Ruth  gave  way  to  the  gayety  of  her  age, 
and  the  raptures  of  the  moment,  about  the  ad- 


218  NAOMI. 

ventures  of  the  day ;  —  first,  however,  the  jour 
ney  to  Connecticut,  the  horse,  and  the  becoming 
riding-dress  the  tailor  was  then  making  for  her  ; 
and  then,  seizing  Faith,  she  drew  her  into  a 
chair,  and,  jumping  herself  into  her  arms,  re 
lated  all  she  could  remember  of  Commence 
ment,  not  sparing  her  ridicule  of  some  of  the 
staid  and  sage  elderly  young  men,  but  expa 
tiating  in  the  true  style  of  fifteen  about  young 
Herbert,  his  angelic  face,  his  eyes,  and  his  hair, 
till  Naomi,  overcome  with  fatigue,  had  fallen 
asleep  in  her  chair,  and  Faith,  signing  to  her  to 
be  silent,  drew  her  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

"  Pure  love  ?  there  is  no  other,  nor  shall  be 
Till  the  worse  angels  hurl  the  better  down, 
And  heaven  lie  under  hell.     If  God  is  one, 
And  pure,  so  surely  love  is  pure,  and  one  !  " 

LET  us  return  for  a  moment  to  Cambridge, 
where  we  left  the  excited  multitude  feasting 
upon  the  abundant  provision  of  good  things 
always  the  fashion  in  this  liberal  land.  After 
the  shower  they  had  assembled  again  in  the 
church,  for  the  performances  of  the  masters  of 
arts.  The  young  men  looked  in  vain  for  the 
two  fair  faces  that  had  shone  upon  them  in  the 
morning,  awaking  ardent  feelings  of  interest ; 
for  although  they  were  grave  young  Puritans, 
they  were  also  young  men  ;  and  it  has  been  as 
serted  as  an  undoubted  truth,  that  where  the 
brain  is  constantly  employed  with  abstractions, 
especially  where  there  is  a  sterility  of  spiritual 
ideas,  as  in  the  dogmas  of  Calvinism,  there  is 
also  a  tendency  to  extreme  excitement  of  the 
passions,  especially  the  passion  of  love.  In  the 
opinion  of  these  youths,  Ruth  was  far  more 
beautiful  than  Naomi ;  and  indeed  her  sparkling 


220  NAOMI. 

animation  and  fresh,  youthful  cheek  might  have 
charmed  more  delicate  connoisseurs  in  beauty. 
Naomi  alone  dwelt  in  the  memory  of  Herbert ; 
he  had  not  remarked  Ruth  ;  her  interest  in  him, 
betrayed  by  her  rising  color  and  enraptured  at 
tention,  had  not  been  observed  by  the  side  of 
the  serious  and  thoughtful  face,  the  sad  and 
tender  eyes,  of  Naomi. 

Herbert,  on  entering,  looked  through  the  re 
mote  rows  of  female  faces,  much  thinned  since 
the  morning,  for  the  one  expression,  the  soul  that 
haunted  his  memory.  His  mind  was  in  a  sin 
gular  state  of  excitement.  A  hundred  wild 
dreams,  romantic  and  improbable,  but  such  as 
take  possession  of  enthusiastic  and  imaginative 
youths,  shut  out  from  his  mind  the  actual  scene 
about  him,  but  substituted  actual  visions  of  ro 
mantic  hopes  and  bewildering  expectations,  all 
built,  like  fairy  castles,  upon  air.  Scenes  of 
meeting  with  her  whose  name  as  yet  he  did  not 
know,  of  aiding  her  in  difficulties,  even  of  saving 
her  life  in  danger,  all  passed  as  visions  through 
his  mind.  He  was  now  at  her  side,  now  at  her 
feet ;  he  was  looking  into  those  pensive  eyes ;  he 
was  pouring  out  to  her  all  the  experience  of  his 
young  life  ;  he  had  found  some  one  to  listen  to 
his  aspirations,  who  could  realize  his  vague 
dreams  of  the  good  and  the  beautiful ;  he  had 


NAOMI.  221 

already  passed  long  hours  in  confidential  talk 
with  her ;  he  saw  his  whole  life  before  him 
couleur  de  rose,  with  her  at  his  side,  when  a  rude 
clasp  upon  the  shoulder  recalled  him  to  him 
self. 

He  looked  around,  and  the  visions  suddenly 
vanished.  He  was  sitting  in  the  old  meeting 
house,  with  the  cobwebbed  rafters  over  his 
head ;  the  declining  sun  was  shining  through 
the  diamond  panes  ;  the  revived  and  freshened 
branches  of  the  trees  waved  between  them  and 
the  westering  sun.  The  venerable,  white-haired 
Chauncy  had  risen  in  the  pulpit  to  pronounce 
the  final  blessing  ;  all  were  rapidly  departing,  and 
Herbert  was  again  externally  the  simple  young 
man  who  sat  the  evening  before  in  his  father's 
porch,  —  but,  ah  !  how  changed,  how  trans 
formed  within  ! 

His  sister  was  waiting  for  him  to  conduct  her 
home.  Their  horse  was  found  among  many 
others,  tied  beneath  the  trees  or  the  shelter  of 
a  hospitable  shed  j  the  poor  beast  was  brought 
to  the  wooden  block  at  the  meeting-house  door, 
and  his  sister  mounted  behind  her  cavalier,  just 
as  the  sun  threw  its  last  crimson  rays  upon  the 
winding  river,  that  spreads  so  gracefully  through 
the  meadows  in  Cambridge.  I  have  seen  no 
spectacle  more  beautiful  than  that  of  the  sun 


222  NAOMI. 

setting  from  Cambridge.  The  shadows  of  Mount 
Auburn,  and  the  deeper  green  of  the  meadows, 
the  soothing  influence  of  the  whole,  make  it  a 
scene  where  it  is  sweet  to  remember  the  dead, 
or  to  endeavour  to  make  life  worth  living  to 
those  who  are  yet  alive. 

Herbert  and  his  sister  were  obliged  to  proceed 
some  distance  up  the  right  bank  of  the  river  to 
find  a  foot-bridge,  or  a  fording-place  at  low 
water.  The  sultriness  of  a  midsummer  day  was 
succeeded  by  cool  breezes  from  the  west,  ren 
dered  still  more  refreshing  by  the  shower.  The 
dewy  perfumes  of  the  lowly  plants,  the  ferns 
and  the  mosses,  came  gratefully  to  their  senses 
as  they  were  crushed  by  their  horse's  hoofs,  as 
they  wound  through  foot  or  cart-paths,  through 
woods  and  thickets,  between  Cambridge  and  the 
borders  of  Roxbury.  It  would  have  been  the 
more  usual  way  to  have  crossed  the  ferry  to 
Boston,  and  then  to  have  taken  the  road  over  the 
Neck  to  Roxbury.  But  Herbert  was  in  that 
mood  of  mind  in  which  solitude  is  necessa 
ry,  to  indulge  excited  fancies  and  lovely  day 
dreams.  They  rode  on  in  unbroken  silence. 
Mary  made  several  attempts  to  converse,  but,  re 
ceiving  no  answer  from  her  brother,  she  also  had 
fallen  into  silence.  She  was  too  humble  and 
too  submissive  to  urge  her  own  will,  —  to  persist 


NAOMI.  223 

in  the  desire  to  find  sympathy  for  the  emotions 
that  were  swelling  her  heart,  excited  by  the 
scenes  of  the  day,  and  especially  by  the  part 
her  brother  had  taken.  She  respected  his  si 
lence,  also,  because  she  knew  the  freedom  of  his 
opinions  would  have  offended  their  father,  and 
she  supposed  her  brother  was  preparing  to  meet 
and  soften  his  displeasure. 

The  moon  had  risen.  It  was  nearly  mid 
night  when  they  had  to  pass  through  a  narrow 
defile  between  high  rocks,  so  thickly  wooded 
with  pines  and  hemlocks  as  to  shroud  them 
almost  in  complete  darkness  ;  as  they  emerged, 
the  little  lake  lay  before  them,  Jts  unbroken 
mirror  silvered  by  a  long  bar  of  moonlight. 
The  slight  tinkling  of  the  brook  amid  the  sigh 
ing  of  the  night  breeze  that  gently  stirred  the 
leaves,  the  summer  sounds  of  innumerable  in 
sects,  the  locust,  the  shrill  song  of  the  frog,  fell 
on  their  ears,  and,  as  they  turned  into  the  path 
along  the  brook,  the  lone  and  lowly  farm-house, 
with  the  long  shadows  of  its  overhanging  elms 
upon  the  grass,  presented  a  scene  of  beauty  that 
spoke  to  both  their  hearts. 

How  few  there  are  who  can  appreciate  such 
a  night  scene,  and  of  those  few,  how  seldom 
are  their  minds  attuned  to  enjoy  its  penetrating 
beauty !  Such  a  night  scene  is  instantly  peopled 


224  NAOMI. 

with  the  forms  of  memory,  the  loved  and  the 
lost ;  and,  if  there  be  such,  the  injured  by  a  word 
of  unkindness  or  a  deed  of  ingratitude  come 
back  in  the  silent  hours  and  walk  amid  its  shad 
ows  j  conscience  and  sleeping  love  awake,  and 
memory  recalls  every  fond  look  and  every  un 
kind  word.  But  if  memory  have  no  treasures, 
imagination  peoples  the  scene  with  forms  of 
beauty  and  incidents  of  joy  ;  the  harsh  and  im 
perfect  realities  of  life  are  forgotten,  and  man  is 
made  worthy  to  dwell  in  such  scenes  of  beauty. 
But,  ah  !  the  sigh  that  swells  the  heart  as  we 
gaze  upon  them  proves  that  it  is  not  yet  attuned 
to  their  blissful  harmony. 

As  the  night  wanderers  cantered,  upon  the 
green  turf,  to  the  farm-house  door,  the  watch 
dog  broke  the  silence  of  the  night,  and  the 
horses  at  pasture  neighed  their  joy  at  the  return 
of  their  companion.  Late  as  it  was,  their  father 
had  not  retired ;  he  was  sitting  under  the  porch. 
Ever  since  his  return  from  Cambridge,  his  mind 
had  been  sadly  occupied  with  his  son.  He  had 
been  touched  even  to  tears  with  his  eloquence, 
and  felt  proud  of  the  honest  independence  with 
which  he  avowed  his  opinions  ;  but  he  felt  that 
such  freedom  of  thought  made  it  as  impossible 
for  him  to  enter  the  narrow  sheepfold  of  the 
ministry,  circled  round  as  it  then  was  by  the 


NAOMI.  225 

iron  fence  of  the  Cambridge  Synod,  as  if  he 
had  uttered  the  Transcendental  opinions  of  the 
present  day.  He  was  a  mild  but  decided 
character,  and  had  made  up  his  mind,  since  he 
sat  there  in  the  moonlight,  that  his  son  should 
lay  aside  his  student's  gown,  his  black  cassock, 
and  immediately  begin  to  harden  his  hands  to 
the  plough  ;  that  he  should  bare  his  forehead  to 
the  mid-day  sun,  and  harden  his  slender  frame 
with  the  labors  of  the  farm.  He  met  him,  there 
fore,  with  a  mild,  but  rather  sorrowful,  expression 
of  countenance,  said  not  one  word  of  the  day, 
and,  immediately  after  his  son  had  taken  care  of 
the  horse  and  stepped  upon  the  low  porch,  he 
bade  both  his  children  good  night,  and  retired 
to  his  own  bedroom,  upon  the  same  floor  with  the 
kitchen. 

Herbert  had  been  rudely  awoke  from  the 
dreams  of  his  excited  fancy  by  the  homely 
realities  of  his  dwelling.  The  lowly  roof,  the  fa 
miliar  objects,  the  domestic  animals,  the  care  of 
his  horse,  dissipated  his  romantic  visions,  and 
when  he  returned  to  the  house  he  felt  as  though 
he  had  been  walking  in  his  sleep.  Still,  a  kind 
of  perfume  was  left  in  his  waking  mind,  a  feath 
er  of  the  wings  with  which  he  had  soared  to 
heaven  remained,  and  he  looked  at  his  sister, 
who  was  waiting  for  him,  at  first  as  if  she  had 
15 


226 


NAOMI. 


been  a  stranger  ;  then,  recollecting  his  taciturn 
and  her  solitary  ride,  he  kissed  her  without 
speaking  and  retired  to  his  little  chamber. 

When  Herbert  entered  his  chamber,  the  quiet 
moonlight  that  lay  across  the  floor  and  the  still 
ness  that  pervaded  the  little  room  formed  a  strong 
contrast  to  his  agitated  feelings.  ^  His  father's 
countenance,  almost  stern  in  its  sadness,  had  re 
called  the  young  man  to  a  complete  conscious 
ness  of  his  position.  He  had  been  dreaming, 
he  was  now  awake.  But  he  could  not  come 
down  so  abruptly  from  his  highly  rarefied  state  ; 
it  was  like  falling  from  an  air-balloon  into  a 
dense  fog.  The  homely  familiarity  of  every  ob 
ject  seemed  to  mock  his  enthusiastic  aspirations. 
The  room  was  too  small  for  the  spirit  that  strug 
gled  in  his  swelling  breast.  As  soon  as  he 
thought  his  father  had  fallen  asleep,  he  crept 
softly  down  stairs,  lifted  the  latch,  and  went  out 
into  the  free  air.  He  wandered  on  to  the  ravine, 
crowned  on  both  sides  with  lofty  hemlocks  and 
pines  ;  the  deep  and  solemn  shadows,  the  dirge- 
like  sound  of  the  wind,  as  it  moved  among  the 
rustling  leaves,  breathing  a  mysterious  music  from 
an  invisible  orchestra,  calmed  his  excited  feel 
ings,  and  by  degrees  he  was  able  to  take  a  true 
and  serious  account  of  himself.  He  looked 
upon  himself  as  others  would  look  upon  him, 


NAOMI.  227 

and  found  he  had  that  day,  by  what  would  be 
thought  a  boyish  ebullition  of  folly,  or  a  prema 
ture  expression  of  crude  and  untenable  opinions, 
ruined  his  worldly  prospects,  if,  as  had  been 
decided  by  his  friends,  he  adopted  the  clerical 
profession.  The  thought  of  abandoning  the 
chosen  paths  of  intellectual  labor,  of  going  back 
with  his  father  to  the  plough,  never  entered  his 
mind.  He  could  pursue  his  dearly  loved  studies, 
he  could  devote  himself  to  letters,  and  become  at 
least  a  teacher  of  youth,  if  he  were  thought  un 
worthy  to  be  the  instructor  of  men.  He  could 
live  upon  little,  quietly,  unknown,  in  the  midst 
of  woods  and  fields  ;  — 

"  A  way  through  life  out  of  the  beaten  path, 
But  ever  in  the  road  to  the  pure  truth." 

In  time,  perhaps,  the  whole  community  would 
become  of  his  way  of  thinking  ;  breath  from 
the  lips  of  truth  would  at  length,  like  the  kisses 
from  the  lips  of  the  devout,  wear  away  the 
wood  and  bronze  of  the  age.  Then  came  a 
whisper  from  his  heart,  —  the  vision  of  beauty 
that  had  to-day  met  his  eyes  with  sympathizing 
glance  would  still  remain  to  soothe  his  studious 
or  his  solitary  hours. 

The  enthusiast,  thus  reasoning  with  himself, 
became  less  agitated.  He  bared  his  unsullied, 
but  his  humble  and  honest  mind  to  God,  and 


228  NAOMI. 

became  fortified  with  new  faith,  new  resolution, 
if  not  with  new  hopes ;  he  returned  to  his 
chamber  and  slept  the  untroubled  sleep  "  God 
giveth  his  beloved." 

Herbert  awoke  late  the  next  morning,  and 
saw  perched  near  his  bed,  upon  a  chest  of 
drawers,  a  little  dove,  purely  white,  that  seemed 
waiting  for  him  to  awake.  The  circumstance 
was  entirely  natural ;  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
feed  the  doves,  and  to  throw  grain  from  his  win 
dow  out  upon  the  grass  while  he  was  dressing  ; 
the  birds  tired  of  waiting  for  the  morning  sup 
ply,  one  of  them,  the  whitest,  had  entered  to 
see  why  it  was  withheld.  But  to  Herbert's  ex 
cited  imagination  it  seemed  an  omen  of  good, 
a  messenger  of  happiness,  sent  with  a  promise 
of  hope,  that  the  waters  of  doubt  would  soon 
subside,  and  the  verdant  fields  of  joy  spread  out 
before  his  footsteps. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"  Old  Newbury,  had  her  fields  a  tongue, 
And  Salem's  streets,  could  tell  their  story, 
Of  fainting  women  borne  along, 
Gashed  by  the  whip,  accursed  and  gory  !  " 

CHANCE  favored  the  wishes  of  Herbert ;  he 
met  again  the  object  of  his  waking  and  his 
sleeping  dreams  in  a  manner  the  most  unexpected. 

As  we  have  said  in  a  preceding  chapter,  the 
present  summer  and  the  year  before  were 
marked  by  severe  persecution  of  the  Quakers. 
They  indeed  provoked  these  severe  measures  by 
returning  after  the  laws  of  banishment  were 
passed,  wantonly  exposing  themselves  to  scourg- 
ings,  branding,  the  pillory,  and  the  scaffold. 

Margaret,  the  nurse  of  Naomi,  as  soon  as  she 
passed  from  the  influence  of  the  affection  of  her 
former  nurseling,  and  the  protecting  guardianship 
of  her  presence,  began  to  use  the  intemperate 
language  of  the  Quakers ;  to  proclaim  their  al 
most  blasphemous  doctrines  in  the  streets,  the 
meeting-houses,  and,  as  it  were,  upon  the  very 
house-tops.  She  was  warned  and  reprimanded, 
and  at  length  arrested,  tried,  and  sentenced,  to- 


230  NAOMI. 

gether  with  another  woman,  to  receive  thirty 
lasheSj  and  to  be  whipped  from  town  to  town  at 
the  cart's  tail,  and  then  to  have  her  tongue  bored 
with  a  red-hot  iron. 

The  day  that  Naomi  was  at  Cambridge,  an 
anonymous  note  was  put  into  her  hand,  telling 
her  that  this  atrocious  punishment  was  to  be  in 
flicted  in  ten  days ;  that  it  was  to  be  commenced 
at  Cambridge,  continued  at  Watertown,  and  so 
on  to  Dedham  ;  and  that  the  last  consummation 
of  cruelty,  the  boring  of  the  tongue,  would 
crown  the  whole.  The  note  also  added,  that 
there  would  be  an  attempt  made  at  Cambridge 
or  Watertown  to  rescue  one  of  the  women. 

Naomi,  in  union  with  the  feminine  gentleness 
of  her  character,  possessed  a  courageous,  an  al 
most  lion-hearted  independence  in  the  cause  of 
humanity,  and  where  the  service  of  those  she 
loved  was  involved,  no  effort  seemed  beyond  her 
power.  She  determined,  and  without  asking 
counsel  of  any  one,  to  attempt  the  rescue  of 
Margaret  at  one  of  the  towns  mentioned  as  the 
scene  of  her  disgraceful  punishment. 

Fortunately  for  Naomi,  the  horse  spoken  of 
before  had  arrived,  free  from  all  injury,  and 
proved  a  superb  lady's  horse,  gentle  and  perfect 
ly  well  trained.  Naomi  was  an  excellent  rider. 
The  fashion  of  the  time,  or  rather  the  absence 


NAOMI.  231 

of  carriages,  demanded  that  ladies  should  be  able 
to  sit  and  to  manage  a  horse  with  safety  to 
themselves.  Naomi  had  never  consented  to 
mount  a  pillion,  and  this  horse  had  been  sent  for 
solely  for  her  own  use.  The  day  of  the  scourg 
ing  at  Cambridge,  Naomi  would  again  try  her 
new  horse,  which  she  had  only  mounted  a  few 
times,  preparatory  to  her  long  journey  to  Con 
necticut. 

The  success  of  her  plan,  she  knew,  must  de 
pend  upon  its  secrecy,  and  the  wholly  accidental 
nature  of  her  interference.  She  would  gladly 
have  ridden  alone,  but  the  dignity  of  Mr.  Alder- 
sey  demanded  that  his  step-daughter  should  not 
ride  unattended.  She  was  therefore  accompa 
nied  by  a  serving-man,  and  followed  by  Sambo, 
at  a  respectful  distance.  The  best  and  shortest 
way  for  Naomi  to  reach  Cambridge  was  by 
crossing  the  ferry  at  what  was  afterwards  Lech- 
mere's  Point.  There  was  some  little  difficulty 
in  making  her  horse  enter  the  ferry-boat,  and 
the  man  who  attended  her  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
he  thought  it  would  be  much  better  to  choose 
the  road  over  the  Neck  for  her  excursion.  Sam 
bo  answered,  that  Miss  Omai  did  not  wish  al 
ways  to  ride  the  same  way,  as  if  she  was  going 
to  mill. 

As  soon  as  she  had  reached  the  other  side, 


232  NAOMI. 

and  was  again  mounted,  she  was  surprised  at 
the  number  of  people  hurrying  one  way,  —  all 
with  excited  and  varying  expression,  either  of 
indignation,  disgust,  or  a  sort  of  wondering  pity. 
The  road  was  not  then  the  broad  thoroughfare 
it  is  at  present,  but  rough,  irregular,  and  in  some 
places  rocky.  Naomi's  horse,  accustomed  to  the 
smoother  roads  of  England,  sometimes  hesitated 
to  put  his  delicate  hoofs  into  the  deep  ruts  of  the 
road,  so  that  Naomi  was  obliged  to  pay  a  close 
attention  to  the  animal ;  gentle  and  docile  as  he 
was,  he  needed  to  be  used  to  the  new  ways  to 
be  perfectly  safe  and  amiable  in  them.  Naomi, 
intent  only  upon  one  object,  to  reach  Cambridge, 
where  the  first  scourging  was  to  take  place, 
in  time  to  mitigate  its  severity,  scarcely  ob 
served  that  she  was  herself  an  object  of  curiosi 
ty  as  she  rode  by,  and  that  the  women  rushed  to 
the  open  windows  to  express  their  surprise,  and 
in  some  instances  their  contempt,  that  a  well- 
dressed  and  beautifully  mounted  young  lady 
should  be  hurrying  to  such  a  disgraceful  specta 
cle.  They  exulted  in  their  own  superior  delica 
cy  and  refinement,  and  thus  concealed  from 
themselves  the  stirrings  of  envy  at  Naomi's 
beautiful  appearance. 

We  learn  from  the  annals  of  the  times  that 
the  severity  of  these  scourgings  depended  much 


NAOMI. 


233 


upon  the  character  of  the  persons  who  inflicted 
them ;  and  as  the  culprits  were  passed  from 
hand  to  hand  and  town  to  town,  if  they  had  not 
sometimes  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  soft-hearted 
executioner,  delicate  women  would  not  have 
survived  the  cruelly  lengthened  punishment. 
They  often  passed  through  the  hands  of  those 
whose  stripes  were  laid  tenderly  on,  or  never 
touched  the  hared  shoulders.  Naomi's  object  in 
her  ride  to  Cambridge  was  twofold  ;  she  hoped 
to  bribe  the  executioner  if  he  should  prove  a 
cruel-hearted  man,  and,  if  there  should  be  an  at 
tempt  at  a  rescue,  to  aid  Margaret,  by  her  own 
personal  exertions,  to  escape  and  secrete  herself. 
The  plan  may  seem  Quixotic  and  wholly  im 
probable  to  my  readers,  but  women  have  often 
succeeded  in  enterprises  so  dangerous  or  delicate 
that  men  have  shrunk  from  attempting  them. 

When  Naomi  came  near  the  College,  she  saw 
an  immense  crowd  collected  around  the  cart,  upon 
the  open  plain.  The  scourging  had  not  begun, 
but  the  noise  and  uproar  were  prodigious.  Nao 
mi  kept  aloof,  as  though  accidentally  passing  the 
spot,  and  observed  minutely  the  whole  prepara 
tion  for  punishment,  —  the  whole  apparatus  of 
torture.  The  cart,  drawn  by  two  very  strong 
oxen,  was  half  filled  with  straw,  —  a  humane 
provision  for  those  women  who  fainted  away 


234 


NAOMI. 


under  the  severity  of  the  scourging.  The  hon 
est,  stolid,  but  mild  and  even  humane  counte 
nances  of  the  oxen  intimated  no  sympathy  with 
the  inhuman  preparations  going  on  under  their 
very  breath.  One  of  them  had  laid  himself 
down,  patiently  ruminating  and  chewing  the 
sweet  morsel,  while  he  drew  the  head  of  the 
other  down  uncomfortably  towards  him  j  even 
in  these  patient,  submissive  creatures  intimating 
the  supremacy  of  the  one  over  the  free-will  of 
the  other. 

As  Naomi  kept  herself  aloof,  she  could  not 
but  overhear  the  conversation  of  those  who 
seemed  to  be  observers  like  herself. 

"  Well,"  said  a  mild-looking  man,  "  I  always 
said,  that  if  the  government  had  let  them  alone 
from  the  first,  there  would  not  have  been  a  sin 
gle  Quaker  in  the  Bay  at  this  moment.  Why, 
look  at  Rhode  Island ;  they  have  no  trouble 
there,  and  no  persecution." 

"  Yes  ;  but  who  would  live  there,  with  no 
church  and  no  religion  ?  " 

"Well,"  said  another,  "what  will  Charles 
say?  Not  three  months  since,  Mary  Dyer  was 
hung,  and  he  has  forbidden  all  persecution  for 
the  sake  of  religious  opinions." 

"  They  say  Norton  is  going  to  "be  sent  out  to 
make  an  apology ;  and  they  seem  determined  to 


NAOMI.  235 

do  up  the  punishments  before  he  goes,"  said  an 
other. 

"  Bad  work  !  bad  work  !  "  cried  a  third ; 
"  't  will  do  no  good ;  for  every  one  they  punish, 
ten  come  to  share  the  notoriety." 

"  Well !  "  said  a  stern-looking  man,  "  you  talk 
like  children.  Who  could  live  in  the  Bay  if 
they  let  in  all  sorts  of  opinions,  —  Ranters, 
Brownists,  Antinomians,  Quakers  ?  I  say,  hang 
them,  —  hang  them  all,  —  free  the  land  from  the 
vermin !  The  ministers  are  right,  and  so  are 
the  magistrates  ;  and  if  I  had  my  way,  I  would 
not  stop  nor  stint  till  a  Quaker  could  not 
breathe  the  air  of  New  England." 

An  old  woman  who  stood  by,  with  two  little 
children  clinging  to  her  skirts,  and  who  seemed 
to  be  listening  to  the  conversation,  now  inter 
posed.  "  t  The  violent  man  shall  perish,'  saith 
the  Lord ;  and  I  hope  you  will  see  your  wife  or 
your  daughter  in  the  same  situation  of  those 
poor  women,"  she  cried.  "  Look  at  these  poor 
orphans  clinging  to  me;  their  father  and  their 
mother  have  both  been  banished,  for  no  other 
crime  than  giving  the  shelter  of  their  roof  to 
one  of  the  persecuted  Quakers.  What  are  these 
children  to  do  ?  I  say,  the  magistrates  who  ban 
ished  their  parents  should  pay  for  the  support  of 
the  children." 


236  NAOMI. 

"  You  are  their  grandmother,"  said  one  j  "  you 
must  take  care  of  them." 

Another  interposed  and  said,  —  "It  is  but  just 
that  the  children  should  be  supported  by  the 
government  of  the  country  that  has  made  them 
orphans." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  woman ;  "  they  tell  me, 
and  the  minister  bawls  in  our  ears  every  Sun 
day,  that  '  the  cry  of  the  widow  and  the  orphan 
shall  be  heard ' ;  but  those  who  should  hear 
turn  a  deaf  ear." 

Naomi  gathered  from  all  she  heard,  and  from 
the  temper  manifested  by  the  people,  that  the 
majority  were  decidedly  against  severe  measures ; 
and  that,  should  she  even  attempt  a  rescue  here, 
she  would  carry  the  sympathy  of  the  mob  with 
her ;  but  she  wished  to  avoid  all  notoriety, 
and,  if  possible,  to  withdraw  Margaret  secretly 
away. 

She  called  the  man  who  accompanied  her,  and 
told  him  to  penetrate  the  crowd  and  bring  the 
constable  who  was  to  execute  the  punishment 
to  speak  with  her.  The  constable  appeared  in 
a  few  moments.  His  countenance  indicated  no 
ferocity ;  he  was  easily  entreated  to  mercy,  but, 
he  said,  the  crowd  would  by  no  means  be  balk 
ed  of  their  amusement.  They  were  principally 
college  and  other  youths,  who  had  come  out  to 


NAOMI.  237 

see  the  fun ;  and,  as  the  punishment  was  or 
dered  by  the  authority  of  the  court,  there  could 
be  no  harm,  they  said,  in  their  seeing  that  it  was 
well  executed.  They  were  light-hearted  and 
perhaps  generous  youths,  and  if  Naomi  could 
have  addressed  each  separately,  no  doubt  he 
would  have  yielded  and  been  ashamed  of  his 
brutality ;  but  they  were  the  strongest,  and  de 
termined  to  hold  their  power.  There  seemed, 
therefore,  no  chance  of  a  rescue  or  of  a  mitiga 
tion -of  the  punishment. 

Naomi  was  looking  around  in  disgust  and  in 
despair,  when  she  saw  the  youth  who  had  ex 
cited  so  much  interest  on  Commencement  day 
issuing  from  another  part  of  the  college  yard, 
apparently  intending  to  avoid  the  noise  and  tu 
mult,  as  a  thing  that  in  no  way  interested  him. 
As  he  turned,  he  perceived  her ;  she  also  caught 
his  eye,  and  the  thought  flashed  through  her 
mind  that  he,  so  eloquent,  so  much  beyond  his 
years  in  character,  better  than  any  other  could 
turn  his  young  comrades  from  their  purpose. 
She  called  him  to  her  side.  The  extremest  joy 
for  a  moment  stopped  the  beating  of  Herbert's 
heart,  the  blood  rushed  to  his  brow,  and  then 
emotion  left  him  pale.  Naomi  made  no  apology ; 
she  went  straight  to  her  object,  and  told  him  she 
relied  upon  his  power  over  his  young  comrades 


238  NAOMI. 

to  mitigate  the  severest  part  of  the  punishment, 
the  insults  and  ribaldry  of  these  thoughtless 
youths. 

Herbert  rushed  instantly  into  the  densest  part 
of  the  crowd.  His  presence  was  hailed  by  a 
shout  of  joy  from  one  portion  of  the  mob,  by 
derision  and  insult  by  another.  "Here  comes 
the  heretic,"  cried  not  a  few  voices  •  "  his  turn 
will  come  next."  "Here  comes  the  Quaker! 
Put  on  thy  hat,  friend !  Where  is  thy  broad 
brim  ?  "  for  Herbert  had  taken  off  his  hat  when 
called  by  Naomi,  and  stood  there  uncovered, 
his  fine  countenance  glowing  with  shame  and 
indignation.  "  Friend,"  cried  another,  "  art 
thou  for  the  whipping,  or  for  boring  the  tongue  ? 
Yea  or  nay,  friend  !  " 

He  cried  out  shame  upon  them  ;  reproached 
with  burning  language  the  young  men  of  his 
own  age  for  their  unmanly  conduct  in  aggra 
vating  the  misery  of  poor,  defenceless  women,  for 
debasing  themselves  by  insulting  the  fallen  and 
the  helpless.  They  paused,  then  listened,  and 
many  of  them  slunk  away  ashamed,  and  even 
weeping. 

The  power  that  the  young  exert  upon  the 
young,  the  respect  that  an  ingenuous  youth 
feels  for  one  just  above  him  in  years,  the  elec 
tric  influence  of  courage  and  boldness  upon  the 


NAOMI.  239 

young  mind,  are  well  known.  Herbert's  success 
in  appealing  to  the  generosity  of  these  youths 
was  instantaneous,  and  far  greater  thai?  if  a  doz 
en  graybeards  had  harangued  them  upon  their 
duty.  The  mob  was  quelled,  and  soon  they  be 
gan  to  steal  away ;  but,  as  was  to  be  expected, 
a  reaction  took  place,  and  the  college  youth  de 
clared  that  no  whipping  should  take  place  near 
the  college  grounds  ;  the  sacred  precincts  of  the 
Muses  should  protect  the  unfortunate,  and  no 
woman  should  be  tortured  within  their  hearing. 
As  the  constables  were  slow  in  complying,  the 
young  men  completed  their  triumph  by  taking 
the  oxen  from  the  cart,  and  drawing  it  them 
selves,  with  shouts  and  songs,  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  on  the  road  to  Watertown. 

In  a  short  time  the  place  was  cleared  of  the 
mob  ;  the  few  officials  remained  with  the  faint 
ing  woman  and  her  friends.  Naomi  turned  to 
thank  Herbert.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 
"  This  is  not  the  place,"  she  said;  "but  come 
to  my  father's  house,  and  I  shall  have  time  and 
know  how  to  thank  you." 

Herbert  heard  ;  his  soul  spoke  in  his  eyes,  but 
no  word  came  to  his  lips. 

Naomi  now  obtained  from  the  soft-hearted 
constable,  that  Margaret  should  be  placed  upon 
the  straw  in  the  cart,  and  carried  on  thus  to  be 


240  NAOMI. 

delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  officers  at  Water- 
town.  Naomi  had  caught  the  expression  of  Mar 
garet's  f^e  as  she  lay  fainting  on  the  cart,  no 
longer  confident  and  full  of  the  pride  of  martyr 
dom,  but  supplicating  and  humble  in  its  suffering 
expression ;  and  she  determined,  at  the  risk  of 
every  thing,  to  follow  on  to  Watertown,  and  en 
deavour  to  rescue  or  succor  the  poor  woman. 
Her  presence  at  Cambridge  had  solely  the  ap 
pearance  of  accident  j  she  therefore  rode  rapidly 
on,  keeping  aloof  and  much  in  advance  of  the 
cart.  They  had  scarcely  proceeded  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  when  they  saw  the  Watertown  officers 
approaching  to  take  the  poor  woman  into  custo 
dy.  The  whipping  at  Watertown  had  been  ap 
pointed  to  take  place  at  eleven  o'clock,  but  the 
mob  and  delay  at  Cambridge  had  retarded  the 
progress  of  the  cart.  The  populace  had  collect 
ed,  and,  after  waiting  some  time,  fearing  they 
were  to  be  balked  of  their  amusement,  they 
had  driven  the  constable  with  a  crowd  on  the 
highway,  to  secure  their  prey. 

Naomi,  as  we  have  said,  rode  rapidly  on  to 
Watertown,  having  sent  Sambo  back  to  Boston 
to  inform  her  step-father  that  she  should  not  re 
turn  to  dinner,  and  leaving  it  to  Sambo's  in 
genuity  or  simplicity  to  explain  her  absence. 
When  she  reached  the  place  of  punishment  at 


NAOMI.  241 

Watertown,  many  of  the  persons  collected  had 
become  weary  of  waiting  for  their  pastime,  and 
had  gone  home  to  dinner.  This  was  a'favorable 
circumstance.  Another  circumstance  that  favor 
ed  Naomi's  plan  —  hastily  but  clearly  formed  — 
was,  that  friends  with  whom  she  had  some  inti 
macy  dwelt  immediately  in  view,  —  indeed,  ex 
actly  opposite  the  spot  where  the  punishment  was 
to  be  inflicted.  Naomi  therefore  alighted,  and  was 
received  with  a  lively  welcome,  —  a  godsend  as 
she  was  to  the  retired  family  of  daughters  ;  her 
horse  was  cared  for,  she  was  pressed  to  stay  to 
dinner,  was  soon  divested  of  her  cumbrous 
riding-dress,  and,  by  the  time  the  cart  arrived 
with  Margaret,  she  could  take  her  place  at  the 
window,  simply  as  one  of  the  family,  and  ap 
parently  with  no  more  interest  than  the  rest. 

Margaret  was  still  fainting  upon  the  cart ;  but 
the  people  had  dispersed,  and  the  constable  was 
weary,  so  that  the  whipping  was  put  off  till  after 
dinner.  They  had  no  intention  of  losing  the 
amusement  of  seeing  a  poor  fellow-being  put  to 
the  torture,  which,  indeed,  they  believed  she 
richly  deserved.  Naomi,  in  the  mean  time,  rep 
resented  to  the  family  the  fainting  condition  of 
Margaret,  and  urged  upon  them  the  humane  and 
merciful  purpose  of  bringing  her  into  the  house 
for  a  short  time,  for  some  refreshment.  The 
16 


242  NAOMI. 

wife  was  tender-hearted ;  the  husband  stern,  but 
not  inhuman.  To  her  surprise  and  joy  they  ac 
ceded  to  her  request.  Their  host,  as  she  found, 
was  a  justice  of  the  peace  ;  it  was,  therefore, 
only  taking  her  into  custody,  to  be  again  given 
up  to  her  punishment.  As  Mr.  Ashurst,  the 
host,  went  out  to  become  surety  for-ihe-  wo 
man's  redelivery,  Naomi  saw  Herbert  Walton 
turn  from  the  road  that  led  to  Cambridge.  She 
hailed  his  appearance  as  almost  providential ;  for 
his  courage  and  presence  of  mind  would  help 
her  to  execute  the  plan  already  formed.  He  had 
followed  on  from  Cambridge,  drawn  by  an  irre 
sistible  enchantment,  and  had  reached  the  spot 
almost  as  soon  as  Naomi  herself.  "  A  true  de 
voted  pilgrim  at  the  shrine  of  love  can  measure 
kingdoms  with  his  faithful  feet." 

Naomi,  under  the  pretence  of  assisting  Mar 
garet,  went  out,  and,  unperceived,  held  a  mo 
ment's  conversation  with  Herbert.  Margaret  was 
brought  in  and  laid  upon  the  bed  in  a  small 
room  adjoining  the  kitchen.  The  family  were 
now  summoned  to  dinner,  and  Naomi,  having 
mentioned  to  her  host  and  hostess,  although 
without  explaining  the  reason,  that  she  felt  a 
warm  interest  in  the  culprit,  requested  to  be 
permitted  to  carry  the  refreshment  to  her  herself. 
Margaret  was  revived  by  the  food  and  wine,  so 


NAOMI.  243 

that  she  could  make  an  effort  for  her  own  free 
dom.  She  had  tasted  the  fruit  of  her  violence 
and  fanaticism,  and  found  it  had  the  bitterness 
of  death.  She  was  ready  and  glad  to  escape 
the  uttermost  penalty. 

Naomi  having  secured  the  door,  it  was  but  the 
work  of  a  moment  to  invest  her  with  her  own 
riding-habit,  her  hat,  and  mask.  In  these  primi 
tive  times,  there  was  but  one  maid-servant ;  she, 
fortunately,  was  waiting  at  dinner,  because  they 
were  this  day  honored  with  the  company  of  a 
guest.  Naomi,  therefore,  led  Margaret  unob 
served  through  the  kitchen-door.  Herbert  stood 
at  a  little  distance,  concealed  by  the  shed,  hold 
ing  Naomi's  horse  already  saddled ;  they  assisted 
her  to  mount,  and  pointed  out  the  path  she  must 
take  to  reach  the  most  secret  part  of  the  forest, 
where  he  assured  her  he  would  meet  her  at 
nightfall,  and  lead  her  to  a  place  of  safety.  It 
was  the  work  of  a  minute.  Naomi  looked  her 
thanks  to  Herbert,  and  returned,  unruffled,  calm, 
and  composed,  to  take  her  place,  which  she  had 
only  quitted  for  a  moment,  at  the  table.  The 
whole  thing  had  been  so  simply  and  so  easily 
done,  —  no  suspicion  existing  in  any  mind  of  a 
connection  or  understanding  between  the  lady 
and  the  prisoner,  —  Mr.  Ashurst  so  entirely  confi 
dent  that  the  prisoner  was  safe,  —  the  reader  will 


244  NAOMI. 

readily  understand  how  quickly  and  naturally 
the  escape  might  be  managed,  and  take  not  so 
much  time  as  it  has  taken  to  relate  it. 

An  hour  had  scarcely  passed  when  the  con 
stable  came  to  demand  his  victim.  The  young 
ladies  urged  a  respite  for  the  poor  woman  ;  but 
Mr.  Ashurst  said  the  course  of  justice  must  not 
be  arrested,  and  went  himself  to  bring  her  forth. 
The  bedroom  was  empty.  The  magistrate  in 
stantly  understood  the  whole.  He  looked  with 
bitter  reproach  at  Naomi ;  but  she  met  his  look 
with  a  serene  countenance,  that  seemed  to  say 
she  was  ready  to  justify  what  she  had  done. 
Miss  Naomi's  horse,  too,  had  disappeared.  The 
boy  at  work  in  the  stable  was  questioned.  A 
young  gentleman,  he  said,  had  saddled  the  horse, 
according  to  the  lady's  orders  ;  he  had  afterwards 
seen  the  lady  mount  and  ride  towards  Mount 
Prospect,  a  high  hill  in  Waltham,  then  and  now 
of  that  name. 

Mr.  Ashurst  returned  to  the  ladies.  He  was  a 
magistrate  ;  a  theft  had  been  committed  within 
his  premises,  and,  looking  at  Naomi,  he  said,  — 
"  I  shall  instantly  despatch  a  warrant  to  arrest 
the  thief,  —  a  young  gentleman,  I  understand, 
from  the  college." 

Naomi  turned  slightly  pale.  "It  is  unneces 
sary,"  she  said ;  "  the  horse  was  saddled  at  my 


NAOMI.  245 

order,  and  I  gave  it  to  the  young  woman  to  as 
sist  her  escape."  She  then  related,  in  a  few 
words,  the  relation  in  which  Margaret  stood  to 
her  ;  her  long  services  to  her  mother  and  herself, 
and  that  she  left  Boston  that  morning  with  the 
intention  of  rescuing  her;  she  had  been  more 
successful  than  she  had  dared  to  hope,  and  then 
she  added,  with  a  sweet  smile,  —  "I  am  in  your 
power ;  you  are  a  magistrate  ;  you  can  inform 
the  government,  or  yourself  send  me  to  prison." 
Mr.  Ashurst  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  si 
lence,  his  countenance  changing  from  a  stern  and 
cold  expression  of  displeasure  to  sympathy  and 
admiration  ;  then  he  said,  with  Puritan  gallantry, 
—  "It  would  be  a  pity  to  lose  those  pretty  ears, 
which  you  undoubtedly  will."  And  he  ordered 
his  daughters  to  lend  Naomi  a  hood  to  conceal 
them  on  her  return  to  Boston.  Although  he 
treated  the  subject  lightly  in  the  presence  of  his 
daughters,  he  was  seriously  alarmed  for  Naomi. 
He  ordered  the  boat  to  be  got  ready,  and  pre 
pared  to  accompany  her  to  Boston.  Upon  the 
way,  he  placed  before  her  the  extreme  peril  in 
which  she  stood.  An  inquiry  would  be  instantly 
made.  He  should  be  called  upon  to  account  for 
the  escape  of  the  prisoner  from  his  house,  and, 
placed  under  oath,  he  must  tell  all  that  he  knew. 
"  Indeed,  the  young  gentleman,"  he  said,  look- 


246  NAOMI. 

ing  keenly  at  her,  "  might  be  content  to  pass  for 
a  thief,  and  perhaps  even  would  screen  her  by 
taking  the  burden  of  the  whole  escape  upon  him 
self."  Naomi  would  not  admit  the  thought  for 
a  moment.  Mr.  Ashurst  recalled  to  her  the  in 
stances  in  which  persons  had  been  severely  pun 
ished  with  fine,  imprisonment,  and  even  the  loss 
of  an  ear,  for  merely  conveying  food  or  relief  to 
imprisoned  Quakers.  Her  guilt  would  be  held 
enormous.  Had  she  no  friend  in  Rhode  Island 
to  whom  she  could  immediately  fly,  under  pre 
tence  of  a  visit  ? 

No ;  they  had  been  purposing  a  visit  to  Con 
necticut,  and  had  only  waited  for  the  heat  to 
subside,  and  a  few  preparations  to  be  made. 

"  Set  off,  then,"  said  Mr.  Ashurst,  "  instantly. 
Hurry  your  party,  and  fly  beyond  the  jurisdiction 
of  Endicott  before  the  report  of  your  interference 
reaches  him.  Let  not  another  sun  rise,  if  possi 
ble,  at  least  do  not  let  it  set  upon  you,  in  Boston." 

"  But,"  said  Naomi,  "  how  is  that  possible  ? 
My  horse,  the  only  one  I  can  ride  with  safety, 
is  gone  ;  and  my  father,  —  how  can  I  explain  it 
to  him?" 

Mr.  Ashurst  took  upon  himself  to  reconcile  her 
father  to  the  necessity  of  their  immediate  de 
parture,  even  without  imparting  to  him  the 
whole  extent  of  her  danger.  The  part  that 


NAOMI.  247 

Naomi  had  taken  in  the  escape  of  the  woman 
was  to  remain  a  profound  secret,  known  to  no 
human  being  but  themselves. 

When  they  reached  Mr.  Aldersey's  house,  the 
dinner  hour  was  long  passed ;  but,  as  Naomi 
had  taken  the  precaution  to  send  Sambo  home 
with  an  apology,  they  had  taken  dinner  without 
anxiety.  But  when  they  saw  Naomi  arrive,  on 
foot,  with  an  ill-fitting  dress,  and  indeed  dis 
guised  by  mask  and  hood,  they  were  greatly 
alarmed.  Mr.  Ashurst  undertook  to  calm  the  ex 
cited  mind  of  her  father,  and  Naomi  took  the 
trustworthy  Faith  aside,  and  told  her  the  whole 
history,  without  reserve,  and  the  necessity  that 
her  good  friend,  Mr.  Ashurst,  thought  existed  for 
her  immediate  flight. 

Faith  instantly  comprehended  and  entered  into 
the  alarming  posture  of  affairs  •  but,  like  the 
resolute  and  hopeful  soul  that  she  was,  her  cour 
age  and  energy  and  activity  rose  with  the  occa 
sion.  She  saw  that  Naomi  was  completely  wea 
ried  and  depressed  ;  the  cause  for  courage  being 
over,  she  was  suffering  under  the  reaction,  and 
trembling  under  the  responsibility  she  had  as 
sumed  ;  like  all  persons  with  heroic  souls,  and 
delicately  strung  nervous  temperaments,  she  was 
suffering  from  exhaustion.  Faith's  cheerful, 
hopeful  spirit  immediately  took  the  lead.  Diffi- 


248  NAOMI. 

culties  vanished  under  the  enchanting  wand  of 
her  resolute  and  bright  and  active  mind.  Her 
own  habit  would  exactly  fit  Naomi.  Ruth  had 
been  long  prepared  and  waiting  with  childish 
impatience  for  the  journey ;  the  rest  of  the  party 
could  be  instantly  collected  j  every  thing  could 
be  got  ready  for  their  departure  in  less  than 
twenty-four  hours. 

"  But  my  horse  ?  "  said  Naomi. 

Faith  for  an  instant  looked  grave,  but  said, 
with  an  encouraging  smile,  —  "You  must  mount 
a  pillion,  behind  one  of  the  men  j  the  loss  of  a 
horse  is  less  than  the  loss  of  an  ear."  And  she 
turned  with  alacrity  to  continue  her  preparations 
for  the  journey.  This  was  no  trivial  business ; 
bread  must  be  baked,  and  meat  cooked,  and  prep 
arations  made  for  a  journey  of  several  weeks 
through  a  wilderness  where  scarcely  a  human 
habitation  would  be  met  with.  While  the 
weather  remained  delightful,  they  would  sleep 
under  such  tents  as  they  could  form  from  their 
blankets  and  buffalo-skins. 

Mr.  Aldersey  had  by  this  time  been  made  ac 
quainted  with  the  new  aspect  of  affairs  ;  for  it 
had  been  found  necessary  to  inform  him  of  the 
necessity  of  Naomi's  immediate  flight,  and  the 
difficulties  attending  it.  Like  all  selfishly  im^ 
portant  people,  he  was  angry  at  the  misfortunes 


NAOMI.  249 

of  others,  if  he  was  obliged  to  sympathize  with 
them,  —  if  they  disturbed  his  peace  or  interfered 
with  his  convenience.  He  began,  therefore,  to 
scold  at  Naomi's  folly,  and,  as  was  always  his 
habit  in  all  troubles,  to  call  violently  for  Faith. 
Faith,  obliged  to  be  in  every  place  at  every  mo 
ment,  appeared.  "  What  's  to  be  done  ?  "  he 
said,  while  he  looked  angrily  at  her,  as  though 
she  had  lost  a  valuable  horse,  or  saved  a  Quaker. 
Faith  assured  him  they  were  doing  all  they 
could  to  repair  the  mischief.  The  church-mem 
ber  seemed  to  be  more  irritated  by  Faith's  se 
renity,  and  said,  the  cursed  folly  of  young 
women  was  incurable ;  that  ever  since  Naomi 
had  been  under  his  roof,  she  had,  by  her  singu 
larities,  brought  him  into  danger,  and  perhaps  he 
should  have  to  endure  the  disgrace  of  seeing  one 
of  his  own  family  with  cropped  ears,  or  some 
thing  worse. 

"  No,"  said  Faith,  "  they  do  not  cut  off  the 
ears  of  women  yet  j  they  would  be  more  likely 
to  deprive  them  of  their  tongues." 

"  They  deserve,"  said  Mr.  Aldersey,  "  to  lose 
both,  for  meddling  with  things  that  do  n't  con 
cern  them." 

Faith  turned  Mr.  Aldersey's  attention  to  the 
fact,  that  they  must  escape  before  the  offence 
was  known.  They  must  set  off  that  very  even- 


250 


NAOMI. 


ing.  This  gave  him  something  to  do.  His 
own  dignity  would  be  compromised  should  his 
daughters  depart  on  a  journey  without  a  full  and 
respectable  escort.  He  set  off  at  full  speed  to 
hasten  the  preparation  of  one  of  the  elders,  who 
was  going  to  New  Haven  to  bring  home  a  wife, 
and  to  bustle  and  fret  about  the  horses,  and,  by 
his  nervous  irritability  and  contradictory  orders, 
to  retard  rather  than  hasten  their  work. 

It  was  nearly  dark.  Faith's  active  and  con 
stant  superintendence  had  brought  every  thing 
into  a  state  of  great  forwardness.  The  horses  — 
the  most  important  consideration  for  their  safety 
and  comfort  —  were  to  be  carefully  shod,  and 
every  part  of  their  accoutrements  in  good  order. 
Naomi  had  been  most  anxious  to  find  a  horse  that 
she  could  ride  alone,  but  was  obliged,  reluctantly, 
to  resign  herself  to  the  necessity  of  mounting  a 
pillion  behind  one  of  the  men.  Faith  had  some 
what  reassured  her  with  the  promise,  that  a  lady's 
horse  should  be  procured  and  .sent  after  to  over 
take  them  in  a  few  days.  This  was  the  state 
of  things  as  the  evening  closed  in,  when  Sambo 
came,  breathless,  from  the  stable,  and  said  Miss 
Omai's  mare  was  standing  all  saddled  in  the 
manger,  and  eating  as  if  the  poor  beast  had  had 
a  hard  day's  work. 

Immediately  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door, 


NAOMI.  251 

and  Herbert  presented  himself,  all  glowing  with 
exercise  and  happiness  at  having  been  able  to 
render  a  small  service  to  the  person  whom  on 
earth  he  most  wished  to  serve.  Naomi's  thanks, 
warmly  expressed,  he  received  with  a  deprecating 
reluctance,  amounting  almost  to  pain.  He  was 
ashamed  that  she  could  call  that  a  service  which 
seemed  only  a  favor  to  himself.  That  which 
had  been  the  blossom,  the  full-blown  flower  of 
his  life,  the  opportunity  to  labor  with  her  in  a 
work  of  benevolence,  he  should  ever  look  back 
upon  as  the  birthday  of  happiness,  —  the  only 
day  in  the  calendar  to  be  remembered,  when  all 
other  dates  and  fond  records  should  be  effaced ! 
Could  she  thank  him  for  that  which  he  was 
ready  to  fall  down  upon  his  knees  and  bless  her 
for  allowing  him  to  do  ?  Such  is  young  love  ; 
all  self-forgetting,  it  dwells  only  in  the  thoughts 
of  another. 

Naomi  informed  him  briefly  of  her  immediate 
flight.  For  an  instant  the  color  left  his  cheeks ; 
but  he  rallied  instantly,  and  entreated  Naomi  to 
let  him  form  part  of  her  escort  through  the 
woods.  This  was  a  bold  and  strange  proposal 
from  one  to  whom  she  was  speaking  almost  for 
the  first  time.  But  there  was  in  Naomi's  char 
acter  and  manners  something  so  transparent,  so 
sincerely  open,  such  freedom  from  coquetry  or 


252  NAOMI. 

artifice,  that  it  seemed  to  Herbert  that  all  his 
thoughts  lay  bared  before  her,  as  all  her  charac 
ter  was  transparent  to  him,  and  that  she  was  to 
be  talked  with  in  sincerity,  as  with  a  saint. 
The  degree  of  their  acquaintance  did  not  depend 
on  time.  They  were  already  tried  and  trusted 
friends.  Like  young  trees,  that  had  grown  apart 
till  a  certain  height  was  reached,  they  must  now 
interweave  their  branches,  and  the  sweet  fra 
grance  of  their  blossoming  must  be  mingled  to 
gether.  Yet  they  were  essentially  different. 
Herbert  was  a  poet,  but  one  who  had  tasted  only 
of  Siloa's  fountain,  that  flowed  fast  by  the  oracle 
of  God.  He  knew  neither  the  strength  of  his 
powers  nor  of  his  passions.  He  had  lived  under 
severe  Puritan  discipline,  and  the  warmth  of  his 
feelings  had  been  cooled  by  the  dews  of  Her- 
mon.  Naomi  had  not  a  powerful  imagination. 
She  possessed  only  what  is  called  a  receptive 
genius.  She  caught  easily  the  inspirations  of 
others,  and  the  impression  made  upon  her  was 
ineffaceable.  She  had  disciplined  all  her  being 
to  calmness  and  composure.  Impressions  made 
upon  her  were  like  those  in  the  rock ;  they  never 
wore  away,  if  they  were  made  when  the  rock 
was  warm  and  fluid.  Perhaps  the  most  remark 
able  trait  in  her  was  her  deep  humility,  and  the 
total  unconsciousness  of  her  own  worth.  At 


NAOMI.  253 

this  moment  she  was  unconscious  of  the  impres 
sion  she  had  made  on  Herbert,  but  felt  in  her 
self  that  he  was  nearer  to  her  than  any  other. 
Did  the  stream  of  their  true  love  run  smooth  ? 
We  shall  see. 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  their  prepara 
tions  were  all  completed.  The  elder  could  by 
no  means  be  persuaded  to  such  a  hasty  depart 
ure  ;  arid  as  the  reason  for  their  flight  could  not 
be  disclosed  to  him,  they  were  obliged  to  set 
out,  with  his  promise  to  follow  after  one  inter 
vening  day.  Indeed,  their  departure  in  the  night 
was  kept  a  profound  secret.  It  was  arranged 
that  the  ladies  should  go  by  boat  to  Watertown, 
and  sleep  under  the  hospitable  watchfulness  of 
Mr.  Ashurst ;  the  men,  with  the  horses  and  bag 
gage,  were  to  follow  them  before  the  dawn  and 
after  the  moon  went  down,  so  as  not  to  excite 
the  suspicion  of  the  good  people  of  Boston. 
They  also  were  to  go  by  boat  to  Watertown, 
and  thus  start  all  fresh  and  cool  upon  their  long 
journey. 

The  hour  had  struck.  It  was  nine  in  the 
evening,  and  the  streets  of  the  little  town  were 
still  and  empty.  Ruth  drew  to  her  father's  side, 
but  the  severe  domestic  rule  of  the  Puritans  for 
bade  the  familiarity  of  an  embrace  even  between 
father  and  child.  Naomi  came  close  to  Faith, 


54  NAOMI. 

and  the  tears  started  to  the  eyes  .of  both,  but 
they  said  not  a  word.  At  this  moment  Mr. 
Aldersey  interposed,  and  said  they  could  scarce 
ly  hope  for  a  blessing  on  their  journey  unless 
they  asked  for  it.  It  was  the  hour  indeed  for 
their  family  worship.  At  such  a  moment, 
even  the  common  repetition  of  a  formal  pray 
er  would  have  been  solemn  and  touching ;  now 
their  hearts  were  moved,  and  they  prayed  in 
earnest. 

Mr.  Aldersey  and  Faith  would  accompany 
them  to  the  boat.  Slowly  and  silently  they 
passed  through  the  deserted  streets,  and  the 
broad  patches  of  moonlight  that  lay  between  the 
gardens  and  scattered  houses,  and  the  shadow  of 
Beacon  Hill,  till  they  came  to  the  boat,  rocking 
against  the  little  wharf  at  its  foot.  It  was  nearly 
high  water,  and  the  steps  that  led  down  to  the 
boat  were  nearly  covered.  Mr.  Aldersey  ob 
served  a  man  standing  in  the  shadow  of  the 
wharf,  and  whispered  to  his  daughters  to  put  on 
their  masks.  Naomi  looked  round,  and  whis 
pered  again  that  "  it  was  a  friend."  Silently 
they  stepped  into  the  boat.  Faith  grasped  the 
hand  of  Naomi,  and  Naomi  returned  the  pres 
sure.  Mr.  Aldersey  placed  his  daughter  upon 
the  thwart,  and  stooped  (was  it  to  give  her  an 


NAOMI.  255 


embrace  or  an  admonition?),  and  as  he  stepped 
back  upon  the  wharf,  the  boat  shot  out  into  the 
moonlight ;  and  the  two  —  yes,  the  three  —  anx 
ious  and  silent  figures  stood  watching  and  pray 
ing  till  it  was  out  of  sight. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

"  The  woods, —  O,  solemn  are  the  boundless  woods 

Of  the  green,  western  world, 

When  dimness  gathers  on  the  stilly  air, 

And  mystery  seems  o'er  every  leaf  to  brood  ! 
Awful  it  is  for  human  heart  to  bear 

The  might  and  burden  of  the  solitude."  —  HEMANS. 

BETWEEN  the  setting  of  the  moon  and  the 
dawn  of  the  early  morning,  the  escort,  horses, 
and  baggage  left  Boston  silently  and  secretly  by 
boat,  and  under  the  shadow  of  the  Brookline 
and  Brighton  shore,  and  by  the  aid  of  a  night- 
breeze  from  the  east,  went  as  far  as  Watertown, 
to  start  from  thence  upon  'their  long,  exciting, 
and  somewhat  perilous  journey.  The  path  from 
Boston  to  Connecticut  River  had  been  frequently 
travelled,  and  by  ladies  too,  since  that  heroic 
company  led  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hooker  and  Cap 
tain  John  Mason  through  a  "  howling  wilder 
ness,"  when  they  were  obliged  to  ford  rivers, 
ascend  mountains,  and  wade  through  almost  im 
passable  forests.  To  borrow  the  words  of  an 
eloquent  pen,  "  As  we  are  now  borne  over  those 
pleasant  regions  by  the  startling  velocity  of  the 
steam-engine,  the  eye  of  one  who  loves  the 


NAOMI.  257 

memory  of  the  fathers  gazes  intently  on  the 
swift-vanishing  objects,  to  catch  each  hoary  rock 
or  tree,  which  perchance  may  have  looked  upon 
the  weary  march,  or  echoed  the  holy  prayers,  of 
those  Heaven-led  wanderers.  Many  a  mile  must 
have  been  trodden  which  was  not  progress,  and 
the  winding  paths  of  the  wilderness  only  length 
ened  the  labors  that  they  eased.  The  infant 
was  borne  upon  a  single  arm  of  its  mother, 
while  her  other  hand  guided  the  gentle  cow, 
whose  back  was  loaded  with  babes  that  had  but 
just  ceased  to  be  nurslings,  through  tangled 
thickets  and  swamps,  and  across  the  frequent 
streams.  The  sturdy  yeomen,  with  their  heavy 
firelocks  and  ammunition,  carried  such  household 
goods  as  were  made  dear  by  former  associations, 
or  necessary  in  their  wilderness  work.  As  far 
as  their  way  led  through  the  forests,  it  was 
doubtless  easier  then  than  it  would  be  now  in 
the  same  regions.  The  Indians  were  wont  to 
burn  the  underbrush  and  the  shrubs  in  the  fall 
of  the  year,  so  that  in  the  spots  which  they 
chiefly  visited  the  woods  were  as  clear  and  as 
pleasant  as  an  English  park.  Their  narrow  and 
winding  paths  indicated  the  safer  courses,  the 
easiest  ascents,  the  cool  springs,  the  fords,  and 
the  places  for  rest."  * 

*  Life  of  John  Mason,  by  Rev.  G.  E.  Ellis. 

17 


258  NAOMI. 

The  road  had  at  this  time  been  marked  out,  the 
best  fording-places  or  the  safest  ferries  indicated 
upon  the  rivers  ;  the  traveller's  path  had  been  car 
ried  round  the  mountains  and  morasses,  and  a 
safe  bridle-path  worn  through  the  thick  forests. 
Indeed,  there  were  some  settlements  made  be 
fore  1660,  and  several  rude  cabins  where  trav 
ellers,  if  compelled  by  the  weather,  might  find 
shelter  and  food.  Still,  it  was  a  hazardous  and 
fatiguing  expedition  for  ladies,  and  required 
courage  and  the  power  to  endure  physical  priva 
tion  and  fatigue.  Under  other  circumstances 
than  those  of  flight,  it  might  have  been  consid 
ered  an  excursion  of  pleasure  to  this  strong  and 
courageous  party,  consisting  of  eight  persons,  to 
whom  two  others  would  be  added  when  the 
elder  and  his  servant  joined  them. 

When  they  started  they  adopted  an  order  of 
proceeding,  which,  as  much  as  circumstances 
would  permit,  they  determined  to  preserve. 
First  rode  two  strong  and  athletic  men,  hired 
for  the  occasion.  They  had  served  in  the  Pe- 
quot  war,  and  were  well  acquainted  with  forest 
travelling,  and  with  all  the  hardships  of  an  un 
broken  country.  They  were  true-hearted,  re 
ligious  soldiers,  and  the  safety  of  the  party  was 
to  depend  mainly  upon  them.  They  were 
mounted  upon  able  horses,  capable  of  enduring 


NAOMI.  259 

the  road,  and  armed  with  matchlocks  and  pis 
tols,  and  unencumbered  with  baggage,  except  the 
fur  robes  strapped  behind  their  saddles,  that  were 
to  serve  as  shelter  and  couch  when  the  party 
were  compelled  to  pass  the  night  in  the  open  air. 
These  men  were  dressed  in  close-fitting  leathern 
doublets,  with  broad  leathern  belts,  in  which  they 
carried  ammunition,  and  even  sheathed  arms  of 
excellent  workmanship.  Breeches  of  leather 
and  high  military  boots  completed  their  equip 
ment,  if  we  add  hats  or  a  cap  of  white  felt, 
close  to  the  head,  with  a  visor  in  front,  but  no 
rim  behind,  showing  the  thick  and  close-cut 
hair.  They  wore  their  pointed  beards  and  mus 
taches  ;  and  as  they  rode  along,  stern  and  tac 
iturn,  showing  in  their  very  bearing  the  courage 
and  firmness  of  the  Puritan  soldier,  they  pre 
sented  a  most  formidable  and  respectable  front 
to  the  party. 

Then  followed  a  gentleman  about  thirty  years 
old,  who  had  been  a  clerk  to  Mr.  Aldersey,  and 
was  now  returning  to  Connecticut  to  visit  his 
parents ;  to  him  Ruth  was  intrusted,  mount 
ed  upon  a  pillion  behind.  He  rode  upon 
a  strong,  long-enduring  roadster,  steady  and 
without  fault.  The  young  man  himself  was 
grave  and  taciturn,  a  Puritan  of  the  strictest 
caste.  His  gravity  effectually  checked  poor 


260  NAOMI. 

Ruth's  ebullitions  of  gayety ;  and  her  father  had 
intrusted  her  to  the  care  of  this  young  Puritan 
because  he  was  doubly  armed  against  any  at 
tempt  at  coquetry  on  the  part  of  Ruth,  by  his 
character,  and  by  being  supposed  betrothed  to  a 
lady  in  his  adopted  home.  All  Ruth's  sallies  of 
gayety  or  petulance  rolled  off  from  his  exterior 
of  impenetrable  gravity,  like  showers  of  peas 
thrown  against  a  rock. 

A  boy  or  young  man  followed,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  perform  all  the  little  services  for  the 
young  ladies  at  mounting  and  dismounting,  ad 
justing  and  taking  care  of  their  slight  baggage  ; 
in  short,  such  as  would  fall  to  a  page  had  they 
been  travelling  in  Europe.  The  rear  was  brought 
up  by  two  servants  of  Mr.  Aldersey's,  armed 
with  pistols,  who  took  charge  of  and  carried  the 
baggage  and  the  provisions  for  the  whole  party, 
with  the  simplest  implements  for  cooking  the 
game  they  expected  to  find  abundant,  and  to 
live  upon  during  their  whole  excursion. 

Naomi,  however,  was  the  centre  and  principal 
attraction  of  the  party.  She  was  mounted  upon 
her  beautiful  jet-black  mare,  the  gentlest  and 
kindest  of  animals,  who  seemed  always  happy 
when  Naomi  was  on  her  back,  and  ever  looked 
around  confidingly  upon  her  as  she  adjusted  her 
seat,  as  though  she  said,  "  Pear  not,  I  am  surety 


NAOMI.  261 

for  thy  safety."  Naomi  wore  a  close-fitting  rid 
ing-habit,  and  a  black  beaver  turned  up  at  one 
side  with  a  short,  bending  plume  of  white.  It 
was  of  the  same  fashion,  although  smaller,  that 
we  see  in  the  portraits  of  the  time  of  Charles 
the  Second.  The  stem  of  the  feather  was  often 
richly  set  with  jewels.  Naomi's  was  plain,  the 
beaver  so  far  turned  up  as  to  show  the  fair  tem 
ple.  A  mask  of  black  velvet  was  attached  to 
the  hat  with  hooks,  but  worn  only  when  the  sun 
and  wind  were  too  powerful  for  comfort.  Ruth's 
beaver  was  similar  in  form,  of  white,  and  turned 
up  with  a  bow  of  cherry-colored  ribbons.  The 
beauty  of  Naomi's  appearance  was  heightened 
by  a  splendid  saddle-cloth  of  rich,  undressed 
skin.  She  carried  only  a  small  bag,  attached  to 
the  pommel  of  the  saddle. 

Such  was  the  party,  with  the  addition  of  their 
guide,  a  well-known,  faithful,  and  sure-footed 
Indian,  who  knew  every  turn,  every  track,  and 
all  the  by-paths,  the  fords,  the  springs,  the  fer 
ries,  and  the  dangers  of  the  road.  He  accom 
panied  them  on  foot,  armed  with  a  rifle,  and  fur 
nished  with  the  means  of  snaring  and  taking 
wild  animals.  His  dress  and  accoutrements 
were  picturesque  ;  he  wore  his  head-dress  of 
feathers,  and,  as  though  conscious  of  his  superi 
ority,  usually  marched  at  the  head  of  the  party. 


262  NAOMI. 

They  mounted  their  horses  just  as  the  red 
and  rayless  sun,  foretelling  a  warm  day,  rose 
above  the  mist,  and  shot  a  bar  of  gold  across 
the  river,  upon  whose  margin  they  were  all  col 
lected.  They  had  wished,  in  order  to  avoid  ob 
servation,  to  start  an  hour  earlier,  but  they  had 
waited  for  their  guide  ;  he  had  been  too  much 
occupied  with  his  toilette  to  mark  the  progress- 
of  the  dawn.  And  now  all  were  ready.  There 
were  stern  and  solemn  faces,  together  with  the 
bronzed,  impassable  features  of  the  Indian  guide  ; 
there  were  also  youthful  spirits,  and  hearts  beat 
ing  with  hope  ;  and  in  one  breast  was  throbbing 
a  deep,  though  subdued  joy  ;  but  they  parted  in 
silence  and  with  thoughtful  countenances,  like 
pilgrims  setting  their  faces  toward  a  distant  or 
foreign  country.  So  stern  and  serious  were  all 
Puritan  undertakings,  that  what  might  have  been 
an  excursion  of  pleasure  became  like  a  solemn 
duty  of  life. 

Although  Naomi  and  the  whole  party  had 
commenced  their  journey  under  the  influence  of 
haste  and  fear,  rather  than  as  an  excursion  of 
pleasure,  yet  she  could  not  but  soon  feel  the  ex 
hilarating  influence  of  the  weather,  the  beauty 
of  the  soft  September  atmosphere  (for  they  rec 
ollected  it  was  the  first  day  of  that  month),  the 
deep  azure  of  the  overhanging  canopy  of  the 


NAOMI.  263 

free  heaven,  the  dewy  freshness  of  the  forest, 
filled  with  the  fragrance  that  breathed  from  the 
thousand  odorous  roots  and  plants,  disimprisoned 
by  the  hoof-broken  turfs  ;  and  as  she  rode  along, 
her  imagination  peopled  these  scenes  of  beauty 
with  beings  worthy  to  live  in  them.  Who  has 
not,  when  under  the  influence  of  soft,  autumnal 
weather,  in  the  freedom  of  wild  nature,  far  from 
the  scenes  of  the  conventional  world,  felt  the 
desire  to  go  back  to  the  primitive  state  of  so 
ciety,  —  to  live  the  simple  life,  to  be  content  with 
the  few  and  unexpensive  luxuries,  that  nature 
furnishes,  —  to  live  with  nature,  alone  with  na 
ture  ?  Another  moment,  and  the  loneliness  of 
this  thickly-peopled  and  breathing  nature  presses 
on  the  heart ;  for  these  living,  happy  creatures 
make  man  feel  the  isolation  of  his  majesty. 
The  birds  are  in  concert  with  each  other  ;  the 
melody  of  one  heart  responds  to  that  of  another  ; 
the  thousand-voiced,  the  mass-meeting  concerts 
of  the  insects,  the  troops  of  animals,  the  un 
counted  leaves,  the  gathering  clouds,  hold  no 
communion  with  the  lonely  heart  of  man  ;  and 
in  this  ever-peopled  solitude  he  feels  too  drearily 
alone.  It  is  only  the  heart  that  is  filled  with 
happy  memories,  or  still  happier  hopes,  the  heart 
that  carries  its  own  world  with  it,  that  can  beat 
calmly  and  peacefully  in  the  solitudes  of  nature. 


264  NAOMI. 

Where  deep  sorrows  have  left  their  scars,  where 
the  breast  has  become  the  tomb  of  the  early 
loved,  and  the  tears  drop  inwardly  upon  buried 
treasures,  the  solitudes  of  nature  press  too  rudely 
upon  these  cloistered  sorrows  ;  the  dead  arise  to 
us,  and  we  call  upon  them  in  the  impassioned 
accents  of  love,  but  there  is  no  answer  from  with 
in  these  harmonies  of  nature  for  the  mourning 
heart.  We  call,  — we  call  in  vain  upon  the  be 
loved  name.  The  soul  of  the  beloved,  is  it  near, 
and  does  it  whisper  to  the  heart  that  which  stills 
its  beating  and  its  vain  longings  ?  We  cannot 
tell ;  the  mystery  is  all  around  us  ;  it  throbs  in 
the  air,  it  trembles  in  the  low  voice  of  the  fitful 
breeze  ;  it  looks  down  in  the  silent,  tranquil 
stars,  and  spreads  itself  all  around  in  the  darkly, 
doubly  mysterious  night.  We  are  enveloped 
and  breathe  within  it,  but  we  cannot  penetrate 
the  ever-enfolding  veil  of  Isis.  The  faded 
wreath  of  cherished  blossoms,  that  has  been  so 
long  pressed  upon  the  empty  breast,  will  not 
revive  again  amid  the  fresL  dews  of  living 
nature. 

Naomi  as  yet  had  little  to  regret  in  the  past. 
The  memory  of  her  mother  she  cherished  with 
tender  veneration  ;  but  her  mother  had  died  in 
the  natural  course  of  Providence,  as  she  must 
expect  to  die  before  her  own  child,  should  she 


NAOMI.  265 

ever  be  blest  with  one.  Her  heart,  on  the  con 
trary,  was  filled  with  sweet,  but  scarcely  ac 
knowledged  hopes.  The  voice  to  whose  plead 
ings  to  accompany  her  she  had  last  listened 
still  haunted  her  memory.  She  caught  herself 
most  constantly  dwelling  upon  the  youthful,  but 
most  noble,  expression  of  his  features.  She  said 
to  herself,  "  There  is  nothing  ill  can  dwell  in 
such  a  temple,"  and  the  words  that  were  put 
even  before  that  time  into  the  mouth  of  Isabel 
were  already  in  her  heart,  — "  My  affections  are 
most  humble  ;  I  've  no  ambition  to  see  a  good 
lier  man."  She  scarcely  remembered  that  she 
was  a  fugitive,  and  soon  felt  the  full  exhilaration 
of  the  weather  and  the  scene,  which,  like  the 
touch  of  an  electrical  chain,  was  soon  imparted 
to  the  rest  of  the  party.  The  sympathy  be 
tween  her  and  her  horse  was  most  striking. 
The  mare  pointed  her  ears  and  arched  her  neck, 
and  was  only  prevented  by  the  unevenness  of 
the  forest  paths  from  showing  her  joy,  as  little 
children  do,  by  dancing  under  her  light  burden. 

Poor  Ruth,  as  I  have  said,  was  much  restrain 
ed  from  the  expression  of  her  mirth  by  her  sit 
uation,  mounted  behind  the  staid  Puritan  upon 
his  sober  animal.  She  could  not,  however,  re 
frain  from  the  mischief  of  giving  a  smart  cut 
to  the  other  horses,  as  they  passed  her,  with  the 
twigs  she  plucked  from  the  overhanging  trees. 


266  NAOMI. 

A  short  ride  of  only  twenty  miles  —  and  it 
was  the  easiest  part  of  their  journey,  because  the 
path  was  plain  and  even  —  completed  the  first 
day ;  and  here  they  found  a  house  for  travellers, 
rude  accommodations,  indeed,  but  such  as  the 
country  and  the  times  could  afford. 

The  next  night,  as  the  weather  was  so  soft, 
and  warm,  and  dry,  they  determined  to  encamp, 
and  spend  the  sleeping  hours  under  such  tent  as 
they  could  form  for  the  ladies  of  their  cloaks 
and  buffalo  robes.  For  this  purpose  they  chose 
the  side  of  a  hill,  crowned  with  a  beautiful 
chestnut  grove.  Before  the  ladies  retired  into 
their  tent  of  buffalo-robes  and  cloaks,  Naomi 
proposed  that  they  should  close  the  day  with 
thanksgiving,  —  a  custom  so  familiar  to  our  fa 
thers,  that  any  one  of  the  company,  except 
the  Indian,  could  have  led  the  devotions  of  the 
others. 

The  next  morning,  as  they  descended  and 
emerged  from  the  woods,  they  came  upon  a 
beautiful  little  lake,  embosomed  in  gently  swell 
ing  hills,  from  which  there  was  an  outlet,  with 
a  lovely  cascade.  The  scene  was  so  beautiful, 
that  Naomi,  who,  till  the  arrival  of  the  elder, 
was  considered  the  head  of  the  party,  and  also 
to  gratify  the  Indian's  desire  to  fish  for  trout, 
proposed  that  they  should  stop.  They  alighted, 


NAOMI.  267 

and  tied  their  horses  on  the  bank.  The  ladies 
sat  down  upon  the  shady  side,  while  the  men 
cast  their  lines  for  fish.  This  lovely  gem  of 
water,  clear  as  crystal,  lay  reposing  in  the  lap 
of  hills,  and  reflecting  every  hill-top,  every  tree, 
every  leaf,  in  its  tranquil  mirror.  It  was  a 
double  picture,  the  inverted  one  having  only  a 
darker  shade  of  background.  It  is  impossible 
to  paint  in  words  the  beauty  of  siich  a  scene 
upon  a  calm  autumnal  day,  and  it  can  be  felt 
only  by  one  whose  soul  is  in  harmony  with  the 
waveless  mirror,  the  unstirred  leaves,  the  solemn 
silence  of  the  hills,  keeping  watch  around  such 
a  gem  of  water.  The  voices  of  the  fishermen 
came  softened  to  the  ears  of  Naomi,  as  they 
spoke  in  lower  tones,  awed  by  the  solitude  and 
silence  of  the  scene.  Ruth  strayed  about,  gath 
ering  wild-flowers,  and  Naomi,  with  silent  tears, 
lifted  her  heart  to  God. 

They  soon  obtained  abundance  of  fine  trout, 
kindled  a  fire,  and  improvised  convenient  grid 
irons  of  forked  twigs,  arid  cooked  a  delicious 
dinner.  This  was  a  degree  of  enjoyment  that 
none  had  expected,  —  a  true  life  of  nature,  a 
delicious  repast  without  table  or  cloth,  an  In 
dian  feast  with  Christian  sympathies. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

"  No  foul  nor  ugly  thing 
Hath  power,  I  'in  sure,  in  this  new  land, — 
Goblin  nor  witch  !  " 

AT  the  close  of  the  afternoon  our  travellers 
came  upon  a  little  cabin,  a  human  habitation, 
perceived  only  through  an  opening  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  forest.  It  was  built  against  the  side 
of  a  gigantic  pile  of  granite,  being  completely 
sheltered  on  the  back  by  the  granite  ledge,  from 
whose  fissure  waved  a  tuft  of  beech- trees  ;  thus 
was  the  little  hut  completely  sheltered  from  win 
ter's  cold  and  summer's  heat.  A  green  and 
slightly  worn  path  led  up  to  the  door,  near  which 
was  a  little  patch  of  cabbages,  on  each  side,  rude 
ly  fenced  in,  to  protect  them  from  wild  animals. 
This  little  human  habitation,  betrayed  to  the 
travellers  by  the  smoke  that  curled  up  through 
the  branches  of  the  beech-trees,  was  of  the 
wildest  and  rudest  structure  ;  but  it  was  placed 
in  a  scene  of  singular  beauty.  A  few  yards  be 
fore  they  reached  its  door,  a  rapid  brook  ran  over 
its  pebbly  channel,  crossed  just  in  front  of  the 
cabin  by  well-laid  stepping-stones. 


NAOMI.  269 

As  our  travellers  wished  to  water  their  horses 
at  a  spot  easier  for  the  beasts  to  drink,  they 
followed  the  stream  deeper  into  the  forest. 
They  were  soon  arrested  by  a  pile  of  rocks,  like 
the  one  against  which  the  cabin  was  built,  ex 
cept  that  this  had  been  partly  split  through  the 
centre,  and  divided  by  a  fissure  of  a  few  feet. 
Within  this  opening,  as  though  protected  on 
each  side  by  a  wall  of  adamant,  issued,  full  and 
clear,  the  beautiful  stream  of  water  that  formed 
the  sparkling  brook.  A  few  feet  from  its  birth 
it  fell  into  a  deep  hollow,  forming  a  basin  partly 
lined  with  rock.  Her^  it  lay,  a  deep  and  silent 
pool ;  a  goat  might  jump  across  it,  but  it  was 
so  deep  that  even  in  the  hottest  and  dryest  sum 
mer  it  was  scarcely  diminished,  the  generous 
fountain  ever  pouring  in,  as  the  hot  and  thirst 
ing  sun  drank  up 'its  treasure.  Around  the  pool 
grew  many  low  pines,  —  a  spot  of  deep  green 
amidst  the  brown  forest.  This  "  diamond  of  the 
desert "  seemed  placed  there  by  the  hand  of 
Him  who  feedeth  the  young  ravens,  as  an  ever- 
bounteous  source  of  comfort  for  those  whose 
voices  are  dumb  in  the  ear  of  man.  There  it 
lay,  —  when  the  sun  shone  upon  it,  a  diamond, 
when  it  was  in  shadow,  an  emerald,  set  in  a 
frame  of  ever-living  green.  The  stars  shone  in 
it,  and  the  moonlight  revealed  it  to  the  beasts 


270  NAOMI. 

that  thirsted.  It  was  in  a  place  seldom  visited  by 
man  ;  but  the  partridge  and  the  quail  and  the 
little  singing-bird  knew  it  well,  and  the  deer, 
the  moose,  and  the  wild  fox  came  there  to  drink. 
Overflowing  the  pool,  it  flowed  on,  wearing  its 
channel  deeper  and  deeper,  making  sweet  music 
with  the  enamelled  stones, 

"  Giving  a  gentle  kiss  to  every  sedge 
It  overtaketh  in  its  pilgrimage." 

Our  travellers,  as  they  could  not  get  round  the 
head  of  the  brook,  dismounted  and  led  their 
horses  across  the  stepping-stones.  As  they  ap 
proached  the  cabin,  a  dog  sprang  out  and  barked 
violently.  This  drew  to  the  door  a  woman, 
whose  age  might  have  been  about  sixty  years, 
although  she  was  much  bent  and  worn,  apparent 
ly  not  wholly  by  the  number  of  her  years,  but 
by  experiences  that  bring  more  age  than  years. 
She  was  without  a  cap,  and  her  gray  hair,  drawn 
back  from  her  forehead,  was  tied  tighly  at  the 
back  of  her  head.  Her  dress  was  a  petticoat 
and  short  open  gown  of  homespun  woollen  stuff, 
dyed  a  dark  olive  by  the  rind  of  the  shagbark-nut. 
Her  Indian  buskins  were  laced  high  up  on  the 
ankle.  Her  dress  was  decent,  even  careful  in  its 
arrangement,  and  showed  that,  though  living  in 
the  desert,  she  still  retained  the  self-respect  of 


NAOMI.  271 

one  who  had  been  accustomed  to  civilized  neigh 
bours.  Her  countenance  was  grave,  even  stern, 
with  an  expression  of  settled,  but  resigned  mel 
ancholy,  although  there  flashed  from  her  eye  the 
light  of  the  keenest  intellect. 

Although  in  her  appearance  there  was  a  stern 
and  settled  calmness,  like  that  of  one  who  was 
looking  inwardly  upon  memories  with  which  the 
actual  world  had  no  sympathy,  she  had  nothing 
of  the  cynical  and  almost  ferocious  expression 
that  those  poor  creatures  acquire  who  are  cursed 
with  the  reputation  of  being  witches.  Deep 
lines  of  care  and  thought  seamed  her  face,  and 
her  skin,  so  long  exposed  to  all  changes  of 
weather,  was  nearly  the  dark  olive-color  of  her 
garments.  Although  it  was  long  since  her  soli 
tude  had  been  cheered  by  the  sight  of  any  fel 
low-being  except  the  roving  Indian,  no  smile  of 
surprise  or  pleasure  gave  these  visitors  welcome. 
She  was  not  rude,  however.  She  asked  the  la 
dies,  with  a  settled  sadness  of  expression,  to 
alight  and  taste  of  the  fountain,  the  charm  and 
attraction  of  her  dwelling  ;  and  she  took  a  large 
wooden  noggin,  bound  with  iron  hoops,  and 
went  to  bring  it  fresh  from  its  rocky  reservoir. 

The  charm  of  this  deeply  secluded  nook  was 
irresistible.  Naomi  wished  to  alight,  and  both 
ladies  entered  the  cabin.  Ruth  trembled  ;  but 


272 


NAOMI. 


Naomi  assured  her  the  old  woman  was  less  a  witch 
than  herself.  The  interior  of  the  cabin  was  rude 
in  the  extreme,  — formed  partly  of  mud,  of  stone, 
and  of  logs ;  the  interior  was  wholly  and  neatly 
lined  with  thin  oak-bark.  A  bed,  a  loom  for 
weaving  cloth,  and  a  spinning-wheel,  almost 
filled  the  small  room.  In  one  corner  was  a  prim 
itive  fire-place,  formed  of  four  smooth  and  flat 
stones,  one  of  which,  larger  than  the  others, 
served  for  the  hearth  ;  a  chimney  of  clay  and 
lath  led  off  the  smoke  through  the  roof.  Every 
inch  of  space  around  the  roof  was  occupied  with 
suspended  articles,  indispensably  necessary  to  the 
poor  solitary,  —  bunches  of  yarn,  ears  of  corn, 
dried  herbs,  Indian  calabashes  filled  with  her 
small  stores  of  food,  —  for  the  reader  must  rec 
ollect  this  was  the  whole  of  the  cabin  ;  there 
was  neither  bed-room,  nor  closet,  nor  loft ;  all 
the  simple  necessaries  of  life  were  crowded  in 
this  small  hermitage,  and  yet  there  was  an  air  of 
neatness,  arising  from  the  strict  order  of  every 
article.  The  clay  floor  had  been  newly  swept, 
and  the  witch's  broom,  formed  of  twigs  of  hem 
lock,  stood  near  the  door. 

The  first  thought  upon  entering  was,  how  lit 
tle  and  how  much  was  requisite  for  human  life, 
—  how  little  of  convenience  and  luxury,  how 
much  of  bare  necessity  ;  and  yet  a  soul  amply 


NAOMI.  273 

furnished   with   inward    resources    and    inward 
peace  could  live  here  content,  if  not  happy. 

Naomi  had  scarcely  time  silently  to  make  this 
reflection,  when  the  woman  returned  with  the 
pure,  cold,  sparkling  water,  and  from  an  Indian 
gourd  gave  the  ladies  the  refreshing  draught- 
Naomi  thanked  her  and  said,  —  "  You  have  here 
in  your  solitude  one  precious  gift,  fresher  and 
purer  than  it  is  elsewhere." 

"  I  have  many,"  she  answered. 

"  Your  solitude  must  bring  you  much  com 
munion  with  your  own  heart  and  with  God." 

"  Yes  ;  we  may  become  ever  nearer,  but  never 
near,  to  God.  Even  here  his  face  is  hidden  with 
storms  and  blights  of  winter." 

"  In  winter,"  said  Naomi,  "  your  solitude 
must  be  absolute  and  dreary  indeed." 

"  The  Indians  do  not  then  forsake  the  path 
that  passes  by  my  door." 

"  But  why  are  you  so  wholly  alone  ?  "  asked 
Naomi.  "  Had  you  no  sister,  no  niece,  that 
could  have  shared  your  exile  ?  " 

The  calm  and  stern  features  of  the  woman 
showed  a  passing  shade  of  deep  feeling.  "  I 
cannot  gather  up,"  she  said,  "  the  leaves  that, 
the  wind  has  scattered  upon  the  forest  paths,  nor 
the  refreshing  drops  of  the  brook  that  have  sunk 
into  the  sand." 

18 


274  NAOMI. 

Naomi  was  much  interested  in  the  reputed 
witch.  Her  figurative  style  of  conversation 
seemed  not  the  result  of  art,  in  order  to  impress 
the  ignorant,  but  the  spontaneous  expression  of  a 
mind  that  had  reflected  much  in  solitude,  and 
expressed  her  thoughts  as  they  arranged  them 
selves  in  her  own  mind.  Naomi  consulted  with 
the  guardians  of  their  journey;  the  sun  had 
long  past  the  meridian  ;  the  spot  was  beautiful  ; 
they  would  sleep  soundly,  lulled  by  the  music  of 
the  brook  ;  she  and  Ruth  would  prepare  their 
bed  under  the  roof  of  the  witch's  cabin,  and  the 
men  could  spread  their  tent  beneath  the  trees. 
They  consented,  and  Naomi  made  the  proposal 
with  as  much  delicacy  as  possible,  asking  for  the 
hospitality  of  one  night. 

It  was  a  surprise  and  a  pleasure  to  the  lonely 
woman  that  Naomi  did  not  share  the  prejudices 
that  had  affixed  the  opprobrium  of  witchcraft 
upon  her,  and  she  began  with  the  utmost  alac 
rity  to  arrange  her  small  cabin  for  their  accom 
modation. 

While  preparation  was  made  for  their  frugal 
supper,  Naomi  and  Ruth  strayed  into  the  wood, 
accompanied  by  the  faithful  animal  that  had 
greeted  their  approach,  with  more  fidelity  than 
courtesy.  Not  far  from  the  cabin  there  was  a 
little  spot  free  from  underwood  or  thorns,  where 


NAOMI.  275 

a  slender  tree,  a  stranger  to  the  forest,  had  been 
planted  by  the  hand  of  man,  —  a  weeping  wil 
low,  whose  pendent  branches  hung  over  a  little 
mound  that  was  evidently  a  grave,  so  small  that 
it  seemed  the  resting-place  of  an  infant.  Stones 
had  been  placed  closely  around  it,  and  grass  and 
herbage  had  grown  up  between,  so  as  nearly  to 
cover  them ;  fragrant  herbs,  too,  had  been  plant 
ed  there.  It  was  a  sacred  spot ;  for  as  Ruth 
bent  down  to  pluck  the  wild  thyme,  the  dog 
expressed  his  deep  displeasure  by  a  loud  bark, 
and,  seizing  Ruth  by  the  skirts  of  her  habit, 
drew  her  away  from  the  spot.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
little  sanctuary ;  an  opening  glade  in  the  forest 
admitted  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  and  they 
fell  on  the  little  mound,  moist  with  nature's  tears  ; 
the  hanging  branches  whispered  a  hymn  befit 
ting  the  sleep  of  innocence.  Had,  then,  the 
witch  buried  her  only  treasure  here,  —  here,  in 
the  lonely  forest,  amid  the  changes  of  the  sea 
sons,  and  the  still  more  dangerous  ravages  of 
wild  animals  ?  The  stillness,  the  sweet  repose  of 
the  spot,  the  mystery  that  seemed  to  brood  over 
it,  were  suddenly  interrupted,  as  they  turned 
away,  by  the  clear,  loud  carol  of  a  bird,  perched 
so  high  that  he  was  able  to  look  into  the  eye  of 
the  setting  sun.  The  bird,  no  doubt,  was  in 
spired  by  the  brilliant  departing  light,  but  it 


276  NAOMI. 

seemed  to  Naomi  that  he  sang  "  so  sadly  sweet, 
so  sweetly  wild,"  a  vesper  hymn  of  peace  to  that 
sleeping  child. 

They  returned  to  the  cabin,  where  their  re 
freshment  was  already  spread  out.  The  witch, 
as  we  shall  continue  to  call  her,  had  gone  silent 
ly,  but  not  sullenly,  about  making  preparation 
for  their  night's  repose.  She  asked  no  questions, 
and  no  smile  disturbed  the  calm  and  settled  mel 
ancholy  of  her  countenance.  She  prepared  her 
own  bed  with  clean,  and  even  fine,  sheets  for  the 
ladies,  and  when  they  had  taken  off  their  heavy 
riding-habits,  invited  them  to  the  welcome  re 
pose.  Naomi  remonstrated ;  but  she  assured  her 
it  was  no  hardship  for  her  to  sleep  in  her  chair, 
and  even  should  she  be  wakeful  all  night,  it 
would  be  no  unusual  occurrence. 

Although  prostrated  by  fatigue,  Naomi  felt  no 
inclination  to  sleep;  the  sounds  of  the  forest, 
so  strange  and  new  to  her  ear,  —  the  ceaseless 
waving  of  the  beech-trees,  swayed  by  the  wind, 
above  her  head,  —  the  monotonous  gurgling  of 
the  brook,  as  it  throbbed  fuller  and  fuller  in  its 
channel,  —  the  unceasing  chirp  of  innumerable 
crickets,  —  the  melancholy  note  of  the  whip- 
poor-will,  that  seemed  perched  near  the  roof  of 
the  cabin,  —  and  a  strange,  unknown  sound,  like 
that  of  a  lost  child,  that  she  was  told  was  the 


NAOMI.  277 

cry  of  the  owl,  —  all  kept  her  senses  awake  ; 
then  that  calm  and  solitary  being  —  so  composed 
and  self-sustained,  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  her 
kind,  living  only  in  fellowship  with  wild  nature 
and  the  wilder  Indian  —  kept  her  mind  awake 
and  busy  with  the  mystery. 

A  moment  only,  and  the  weary  Ruth  was 
wrapped  in  that  exquisite  sleep  that  comes  from 
fatigue  and  health,  and  Naomi  called  the  witch 
to  the  bed-side.  "  We  know,"  she  said,  "  the 
outline  of  your  singular  history,  and  the  confi 
dence  with  which  I  trust  this  dear  child  under 
your  roof  must  convince  you  how  much  I  es 
teem  you.  Tell  me,  therefore,  how  you  have 
supported  your  strange  solitude  so  many  years." 

"  I  complain  little  of  solitude,"  she  said,  "  and 
fear  it  less.  Besides,  I  am  not  alone,  except  at 
night ;  the  feet  of  the  Indians  keep  the  path  well 
worn  to  my  cabin-door ;  they  have  faith  in  my 
simple  remedies  for  their  various  ailments.  I 
am  to  them  a  great  medicine-woman ;  but  I 
never  let  an  Indian  pass  a  night  under  my  roof. 
Yours  is  only  the  second  company  that  has  ever 
sought  its  shelter.  In  the  night,  my  faithful 
dog  bears  me  company ,  and  the  spirits  of  the 
dead,  if  not  in  spiritual  presence  yet  in  inti 
mate  thought,  and  in  promises  that  a  few  short 
years  only  will  keep  me  from  them." 


278  NAOMI. 

Naomi  ventured  to  mention  the  little  mound 
she  had  seen  in  the  forest.  "  Ah  !  "  answered 
the  other,  "my  witch's  caldron  contained  no 
bitter  herb  till  that  little  child  was  taken  from 
me  ;  but,"  she  added,  "  God  is  good  in  what  he 
takes,  as  well  as  in  what  he  gives.  She  was  all 
to  me ;  but  how  could  the  young  spirit  have 
borne  this  solitude,  and  how  could  the  witch's 
child  have  gone  back  to  her  kindred  without 
bearing  the  brand  of  opprobrium  upon  her  ?  " 

The  woman  again  became  silent ;  but  Naomi, 
interested  and  curious,  still  urged  her  to  tell  her 
the  circumstances  which  caused  her  to  be  brand 
ed  and  banished  from  the  world.  She  answered 
almost  in  the  words  of  her .  who,  in  about  the 
same  age,  but  in  another  hemisphere,  was  burnt 
for  sorcery.  We  will  leave  the  witch's  story  for 
another  chapter. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

"  The  only  sorcery  I  have  ever  practised  is  that  of  the  ascen 
dency  of  a  strong  mind  over  a  weak  one."  —  MARESCHALE 
D'ANCRE. 

"  THE  only  witchcraft  I  was  ever  guilty  of," 
said  the  woman,  turning  her  composed  coun 
tenance  towards  Naomi,  "  was  the  experience 
gained  by  years,  and  a  kind  of  gift,  I  may  call  it, 
for  observing  nature,  —  the  aspects  and  changes 
of  nature.  There  was,  too,  a  mystery  in  my  cir 
cumstances,  that  was  increased  by  the  loneliness 
of  my  manner  of  life. 

"  You  have  heard,  perhaps,  that,  when  the  first 
companies  of  Pilgrims  came  to  these  shores, 
they  found  that  in  some  places  small  settlements 
had  been  already  made,  although  in  almost 
every  case  abandoned  j  yet  they  found  white 
men  had  visited  these  savage  solitudes  before 
themselves ;  a  few  even  were  still  left.  These 
persons  were  surrounded  with  mystery,  and  I 
believe  told  little  about  themselves." 

"  Yes,"  said  Naomi,  "  I  have  heard  that 
a  Mr.  Blackstone  was  living  at  Trimountain 
when  Winthrop  and  his  company  arrived,  and 


280  NAOMI. 

that  they  purchased  of  him  the  right  to  settle 
there." 

"  Our  residence  was  upon  one  of  the  islands," 
said  the  witch  ;  "  we  sought  secrecy  more  than 
aught  else." 

"  May  I  ask,"  said  Naomi,  "  the  cause  of  this 
mystery  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes  !  since  death  has  disposed  of  all, 
there  are  none  living  to  he  injured.  The  gen 
tleman  whom  I  may  call  my  benefactor  and  my 
master,  since  I  was  born  in  his  father's  house, 
and  was  indeed  his  elder  foster-sister,  my  mother 
being  his  nurse,  was  the  son  of  one  of  the 
noblest  houses  in  England.  He  was  born  in  the 
north  of  England,  and  was  a  younger  son  of  one 
of  the  great  Catholic  families  of  that  part  of  the 
kingdom.  You  must  have  heard  how  bitter 
were  the  divisions  in  the  beginning  of  the  civil 
wars  between  the  Catholics  and  Protestants, 
even  without  the  aggravation  that  the  Puritans 
gave  to  these  divisions.  My  master  was  a  true 
Catholic,  but  he  loved  a  daughter  of  one  of  the 
sternest  enemies  of  the  Catholic  Church.  You 
know  that  no  enmities  are  so  deep  and  incurable 
as  religious  enmities."  Naomi  sighed,  and  the 
witch  regarded  her  with  interest.  "  The  bans 
of  marriage  were  forbidden  between  these  two 
loving  hearts,  and  the  daughter  of  the  Puritan 


NAOMI.  281 

threatened  with  disinheritance,  and,  what  was 
too  terrible  to  think  of,  another  husband  was  to 
be  forced  upon  her.  Love  taught  her  cunning. 
She  made  a  semblance  of  obeying  her  friends. 
But  I  need  not  tell  you  that  when  the  true  feel 
ing  of  love  exists,  there  is  no  obeying ;  the  heart 
may  break  in  the  struggle,  but  love  will  live 
in  every  broken  fragment.  They  agreed  upon 
flight  together,  —  no  matter  where,  —  but  only 
where  they  could  live  for  each  other.  My  mas 
ter  hired  a  small  vessel,  and  freighted  it  with 
every  thing  that  could  be  needed  in  a  new  coun 
try,  and  with  provisions  for  at  least  two  years. 
An  attached  domestic,  a  middle-aged  man,  and 
myself,  then  just  twenty  years  old,  were  all  who 
accompanied  him,  to  remain  and  share  his  weal 
or  woe.  The  captain  and  ship's  company  were 
to  return,  and  he  bound  them  with  oaths  not  to 
reveal  the  place  of  his  retreat.  Before  my  young 
master  and  mistress  left  their  native  shores,  they 
were  married  by  a  Catholic  priest.  In  the  faith 
of  the  husband,  this  was  a  valid  and  true  mar 
riage,  and  his  young  wife  had  such  faith  in 
him  that  she  never  questioned  its  legality. 

"  The  voyage  was  long  and  stormy,  and  through 
the  illness  of  his  young  wife  —  ah  !  she  was  a 
young  creature,  only  fifteen  years  old  —  my  mas 
ter  was  glad  to  land  upon  the  first  welcome 


282  NAOMI. 

shore.  It  was  an  island,  —  one  of  the  largest 
near  the  continent." 

"  What  island  ?  "  asked  Naomi. 

"  My  master  gave  it  the  name  of  his  wife  ;  but 
they  changed  it,  and  I  have  forgotten  the  old 
name." 

"  What  was  that  dear  name  ?  "  asked  Naomi. 

"Elizabeth ;  —  but  they  have  given  it  the  old 
Indian  name." 

"  We  had  taken  out  the  frame  and  all  the  fin 
ished  parts  of  a  small  house.  The  man  that 
came  with  us  was  a  carpenter,  a  farmer,  a  garden 
er, —  he  had  been  a  little  of  every  thing, — and 
before  winter  the  house  was  all  finished,  and  all 
necessaries,  even  comforts,  were  within  it.  The 
island  was  almost  wholly  covered  with  wood, 
but  some  spots  and  patches  of  fertile  land  were 
already  cleared  by  the  Indians,  who  had  pre 
viously  dwelt  there,  but  had  been  swept  away 
by  a  pestilence  a  few  years  before  we  landed  ; 
one  family  only  remained,  and  they  were  aged 
and  friendly  to  us.  It  really  seemed  as  though 
a  good  Providence  had  prepared  the  place  for  us. 
There  was  one  "only  drawback;  it  was  visited 
with  severe  storms  in  winter,  and  the  ocean  be 
tween  it  and  the  main  land  was  lashed  into 
angry  and  terrific  mountain  billows.  We  had 
taken  with  us  cows,  sheep,  horses,  domestic  an- 


NAOMI.  283 

imals  of  all  kinds.  The  first  winter  passed  away 
like  a  day,  made  cheerful  by  work,  by  seQufity, 
and  happiness ;  I  must  say,  also,  by  the  fear  of 
God.  My  master,  although  a  strict  Catholic, 
was  a  devout  man,  and  when  I  looked  at  him, 
with  his  young  wife  by  his  side,  and  not  a  cloud 
upon  his  noble  and  serene  brow,  I  blessed  God, 
and  prayed  that  it  might  continue  for  ever. 

"  When  the  spring  opened,  we  found  so  much 
to  be  done,  that  we  must  all  work  to  keep  up  with 
the  rapidity  of  the  strides  of  nature.  We  all 
worked,  —  even  the  young,  fair,  and  delicate 
hands  of  my  mistress  were  hardened  by  work. 
She  taught  the  fragrant  vines  to  twine  around 
the  house,  and  look  into  the  very  windows. 
Ah !  I  now  see,  as  though  it  were  yesterday,  her 
pretty  fingers,  all  black  with  the  soil ;  then  she 
would  run,  like  a  laughing  child,  to  wash  them 
in  the  brook  that  flowed  close  by,  and  come 
back,  waving  them  in  the  air  to  dry  them.  In 
the  winter  we  spun  our  wool,  we  wove  our 
cloth,  and  made  the  vestments  of  a  son  of  one 
of  the  first  peers  of  England.  Look  !  "  said  the 
witch  to  Naomi ;  "  upon  that  very  wheel  the  little 
fingers  of  my  lady  have  drawn  out  the  flax  to 
make  the  linen  for  her  husband's  shirts.  We  had 
no  communication  with  England.  It  was  be 
lieved  there  that  the  son  of  the  Earl  of was 

dead ;  he  had  perished  at  sea  with  all  his  company." 


284  NAOMI. 

"  0 !  "  said  Naomi,  captivated  by  this  picture 
of  domestic  bliss,  so  adapted  to  her  own  quiet 
inward  feeling  of  peace,  — for,  like  the  tailor-bird, 
"  she  could  have  sewed  herself  a  home  in  a 
leaf,"  and  there  have  sat  content,  —  "  O,  and  did 
not  this  paradise  last  ?  " 

"  For  some  years,"  said  the  witch,  "the  white 
wings  of  peace  brooded  over  our  habitation.  In 
a  few  years,  —  I  believe  only  two  had  passed,  — 
the  cheerful,  musical  voice  of  a  child  was  heard 
in  our  cabin,  and  that  completed  the  cheerful 
ness  of  the  house.  The  laugh,  even  the  cry,  of 
a  child  makes  a  home  of  the  poorest  house.  The 
richest  is  hardly  ever  a  home,  to  a  woman's 
heart,  without  that  music.  The  little  Mildred, 
for  it  was  a  girl,  and  named  for  my  master's 
mother,  and  she  was  named  for  a  saint,  made  a 
little  heaven  of  our  island.  Then,  indeed,  it  be 
came  a  paradise  ;  but  I  believe  my  master  thought 
more  of  his  English  home  after  the  birth  of  his 
daughter.  I  often  saw  tears  in  his  eyes  when 
he  looked  at  her.  He  seemed  to  be  asking  him 
self  what  would  her  future  be  in  that  solitary 
place. 

"  But  let  me  remember  that  blessed  time  of 
content ;  —  the  mother  and  her  child  ;  contented 
servants  ;  plenty,  smiling  all  around  ;  the  rich 
harvests  of  our  labor  ;  the  father  returning  from 


NAOMI.  285 

his  hunting,  or  with  his  boat  from  fishing,  and 
exploring  all  around !  The  moment  his  boat 
touched  the  cove,  the  little  Mildred  was  wild 
till  we  took  her  to  her  father.  Then  he  would 
come  up  to  his  house,  proud  and  happy,  bring 
ing  her  in  his  arms.  The  young  "wife  stood  in 
the  door ;  the  mother  stretched  out  her  arms  to 
both,  and  he  took  them  both  together  in  his 
own  ;  he  was  a  strong  and  powerful  man,  and 
both  were  like  children  in  his  arms." 

"  And  had  you  no  visitors,  no  interruption  to 
so  much  peace  ?  "  asked  Naomi. 

"  My  master  sometimes  went  to  the  mainland 
in  his  sail-boat.  He  visited  the  settlements  at 
Plymouth,  and  some  venerable  white  men  came 
once  from  thence  and  staid  all  night  at  the 
island.  They  urged  my  master  to  go  with  them 
to  the  mainland,  for  the  sake,  they  said,  of  their 
religious  privileges  ;  they  did  not  know  he  was 
a  Catholic.  My  mistress,  too,  had  now  but  one 
faith  with  her  husband.  But  no,  the  strangers 
were  Puritans.  There  could  have  been  no  fel 
lowship  and  no  good  neighbourhood  with  such. 
Thus  we  lived  ten  short  years,  —  ten  years,  did 
I  say  ?  —  yes,  ten  years  of  happiness.  I  was 
happy,  though  I  had  left  my  bachelor,  who 
had  besought  me  to  marry  him  the  next  year, 
and  he  never  sought  to  find  out  where  I  had 


286  NAOMI. 

gone,"  —  and  her  voice  became  tremulous  and 
sad  ;  "  but  I  was  happy  in  seeing  those  I  loved 
happy." 

The  witch  paused,  and  Naomi,  after  waiting 
a  short  time,  said,  "  Will  you  not  finish  your 
narrative  ?  " 

She  started,  and  seemed  to  try  to  recover  the 
lost  thread  of  memory.  "  I  have  mentioned 
that  my  master  went  often  in  his  boat,  visiting 
the  islands  and  even  the  mainland.  It  was  a 
lovely  morning  in  September,  and  his  wife  en 
treated  him  to  let  her  accompany  him  ;  but  I 
had  already  then  begun  to  observe  the  signs  of 
the  weather,  and  persuaded  her  to  stay  at  home 
that  day.  I  even  told  my  master  that  I  saw  signs 
of  a  tempest ;  he  laughed  at  my  fears,  and  told 
me  I  should  never  be  hung  for  a  witch,  unless 
I  were  more  weatherwise,  for  the  sky  was  as 
serene  as  an  angel's  face.  Not  in  vain  had  I 
warned  him.  One  of  those  sudden  gales  arose, 
so  frequent  in  that  mild  month,  —  a  squall ; 
the  boat  was  driven  a  wreck  upon  one  of  the 
islands,  and  the  body  of  my  master,  without  the 
breath  of  life  within  it,  was  thrown  on  shore. 
The  faithful  dog  alone  stood  over  it.  It  was 
brought,  all  swollen  and  covered  with  tangled 
sea-weed,  to  the  house.  My  mistress  was  the 
first  who  saw  it,  and  she  uttered  a  shriek  that 


NAOMI.  287 

has  ever  since  sounded  in  my  ears.  I  hear  it 
now !  "  and  the  witch  paused  and  covered  her 
ears  with  both  her  hands.  "  She  pressed  her 
hand,"  continued  the  witch,  "  with  violence 
upon  her  side,  and  at  that  moment  her  heart 
broke.  I  took  her  in  my  arms,  and  placed  her 
on  the  bed.  She  never  spoke  again  ;  her  eyes 
were  fixed,  but  there  was  neither  mind  nor  mean 
ing  in  them.  I  placed  her  little  daughter  by  her 
side,  and  she  clung  to  her  mother  and  called  her 
name  ;  she  called  also  the  name  of  her  father. 
There  was  a  slight  trembling  of  her  mother's 
lips,  but  she  spoke  not,  and  before  morning  she 
had  breathed  her  last. 

"  Death  was  merciful ;  it  came  at  once.  Many 
die  of  broken  hearts,  but  not  so  swiftly.  They 
live  on,  bearing  in  the  breast  the  broken  chain 
of  the  spring  of  life  ;  as  the  Bible  says,  *  the 
wheel  is  broken  at  the  fountain,'  and  we  know 
not  why  they  droop.  Some  terrible  blow,  some 
cruel,  heart-breaking  unkindness,  has  fallen  upon 
them,  forgotten  by  others,  perhaps  even  dimly 
remembered  by  themselves,  —  forgiven,  if  not 
forgotten  (for  the  hearts  that  break  are  those  ten 
der  ones  that  forgive  all  injuries) ;  they  live  on, 
drooping  and  withering,  and  like  the  rose,  from 
which  the  heart-leaves  have  been  torn  away, 
they  fade  and  languish." 


288  NAOMI. 

The  witch  paused,  as  though  unwilling  to 
continue  her  narrative.  Naomi  was  weeping. 
There  was  something  so  unaffectedly  simple  and 
expressive  in  the  witch's  language,  that  it  affect 
ed  Naomi  more  than  the  most  artfully-wrought 
tale.  She  seemed  like  one  relating  things  passed 
away  into  dim  obscurity,  even  as  though  they 
had  belonged  to  another  world.  And  so  it  was 
to  her.  These  were  the  memories  of  her  youth, 
and  so  much  had  intervened,  that  when  she 
paused,  it  was,  as  it  were,  to  shut  the  book  of 
the  past,  —  a  book  sealed  to  every  one  but  her 
self.  Ah,  how  many  chapters  there  are  in  the 
life  of  every  one,  chapters  written  with  golden 
letters,  which  we  would  fain  shut  up  like  pleas 
ant  memories !  for  some  dark  misfortune  has 
closed  them,  or  the  angel  of  death  has  clasped 
together  the  covers,  and  has  placed  her  unbroken 
seal  upon  them.  Who  that  has  lived  long  has 
not  a  whole  library  of  such  books  ? 

"  Yes,"  she  began,  after  a  pause,  "  our  ten 
years  of  happiness  were  all  wrecked  and  gone. 
I  was  left  alone  with  a  child  eight  years  old  ; 
a  little  girl,  gracious  and  comely,  but  fatherless 
and  motherless.  Did  I  tell  you,  —  ah,  no !  I  forgot 
to  mention  that  the  man  of  all  work,  the  right 
hand  of  my  master,  perished  with  him.  We 
were  left,  therefore,  with  only  the  old  servant. 


NAOMI.  289 

What  could  I  do,  a  lone  woman,  with  a  young 
child  ?  I  had  heard  of  the  settlements  upon  the 
mainland  ;  that  they  were  Christian  people,  and, 
although  Puritans,  I  believed  they  would  not 
suffer  the  fatherless  and  the  orphan  to  perish.'7 
Naomi  could  scarcely  repress  a  smile.  "  Thank 
God,  I  had  been  taught  to  read  and  write.  I 
sent  the  old  servant  with  an  Indian,  in  his  canoe, 
to  the  settlements,  with  a  letter  to  the  venerable 
men  who  had  once  visited  the  island.  I  rec 
ollected  their  names  then,  but,  alas  !  I  have  for 
gotten  them  now.  I  had  not  heard  then,  that  a 
settlement  had  been  made  two  or  three  years 
before  at  Trimountain,  or  Boston,  by  Winthrop 
and  his  company,  or  I  am  sure  I  should  have 
sent  to  them.  However,  they  came  immedi 
ately  to  see  me,  and  having  made  every  inquiry 
and  satisfied  themselves  of  my  position,  they 
asked  about  my  master's  name  and  family.  I 
did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  tell  his  real  name  and 
family  ;  it  seemed  to  me  that,  as  he  had  always 
concealed  it,  I  should  be  betraying  a  trust  that 
had  been  accidentally  committed  to  me.  He 
had  himself  given  them  before  a  name  that  be 
longed  to  some  member  of  his  family.  They 
asked  me  if  my  master  had  been  married  to  her 
he  called  his  wife.  Fortunately  I  had  found  the 
marriage  certificate  of  the  Catholic  priest,  in 
19 


290  NAOMI. 

which  the  marriage  had  taken  place  under  one 
of  the  family  names,  and  I  placed  it  in  the  hand 
of  the  old  man.  He  looked  at  it  with  great  in 
dignation  and  contempt,  and  then,  showing  it  to 
his  companion,  they  said  that  my  master  and 
mistress  had  been  living  in  a  state  little  better 
than  concubinage.  This  roused  my  indignation, 
and  I  was  upon  the  point  of  dismissing  them 
for  ever  from  any  concern  with  my  poor  orphan 
upon  whom  they  cast  such  shame.  But  I,  a 
lone  woman,  what  could  I  do  for  her  upon  that 
desert  island?  —  for  such  it  appeared  to  me  then. 
I  swallowed  down  my  indignation,  and  told 
them  I  wished  to  exchange  the  possessions  of 
my  master  on  the  island  for  something  of  equal 
value  upon  the  mainland,  so  that  his  poor  orphan 
might  enjoy  the  privileges  of  education,  and  of 
growing  up  with  equals  and  companions  of  her 
age.  God  knows,  I  had  but  one  object,  one  mo 
tive,  in  life.  I  wanted  nothing  myself.  It  was 
all  for  her. 

"  They  complied  with  my  wishes.  The  next 
day  they  sent  assessors  and  appraisers  to  value 
my  master's  improvements,  which  were  to  be 
exchanged  for  a  farm,  or  rather  for  land  of  equal 
value  upon  the  mainland,  in  the  midst  of  the 
settlements.  The  improvements  that  my  master 
had  made  could  only  be  valued  or  appreciated 


NAOMI.  291 

by  one  who  would  live  on  the  island.  As  no 
one  was  found  to  do  that,  we  lost  a  great  deal 
by  the  exchange ;  but  we  received  a  small  farm 
with  a  small  log-house  upon  it,  and  retained  half 
our  sheep,  cows,  horses,  swine,  and  fowls.  The 
furniture,  also,  and  all  personal  property,  were  re 
tained  by  the  poor  orphan.  I  believe  it  was  a 
fair  exchange,  for  the  fertility  of  the  cultivated 
land  on  the  island  could  only  be  of  value  to  a 
person  who  would  live  there  wholly.  It  was 
too  far  from  the  mainland  to  be  kept  as  a  sum 
mer  garden  and  retreat,  as  the  islands  in  Bos 
ton  Bay  now  are  by  the  rich  merchants  of  Bos 
ton.  —  But  my  story  is  growing  wearisome,"  said 
the  witch,  observing  Naomi's  heavy  eyelids. 

"  Ah,  no  !  "  said  Naomi.  "  I  was  only  think 
ing.  Was  the  little  grave  I  saw  in  the  wood  that 
of  your  poor  orphan  ?  " 

"  O  my  dear  young  lady ! "  said  the  witch, 
"  the  events  I  have  just  mentioned  passed  nearly 
thirty  years  ago,  long  before  your  eyes  ever  saw 
the  light.  No,  the  dear  child  grew  up  a  fair 
and  comely  young  woman  ;  she  became  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Puritan  church,  and  was  married  when 
she  was  only  seventeen  years  old  to  one  of  the 
best  young  men  in  the  colony.  He  had  taken 
to  her  when  we  first  moved  to  the  mainland, 
and  I  verily  believe  determined  then  to  make 


292  NAOMI. 

her  his  wife  as  soon  as  she  was  of  a  suitable 
age  ;  for  he  immediately  began  a  kind  of  super 
intendence  of  our  farm,  hired  men  for  us  to  carry 
it  on,  and  took  care  that  we  got  all  that  we 
could  from  the  sterile  soil.  My  Mildred  saw  no 
one  that  she  liked  better,  and  I  think  she  loved 
him,  but  not  as  her  own  mother  had  loved  her 
father.  He  protected  her  always  from  the  slan 
ders  that  the  rigid  Puritans  would  have  thrown 
upon  her  birth  ;  she  was  grateful  to  him,  and  I 
hope  gave  him  her  heart  when  he  put  the  mar 
riage  ring  on  her  finger. 

"  With  her  hand  she  gave  him  the  farm  and  all 
we  possessed.  I  say  we,  because,  as  I  had  re 
ceived  no  wages  since  I  left  England  with  her 
father,  I  had  some  claim  upon  the  property ;  but 
I  could  not  urge  it.  Experience  had  given  me 
some  insight  into  character  and  the  motives  of 
action,  and  I  could  not  but  believe  that,  had  my 
Mildred's  property  been  less,  she  would  have  less 
value  in  her  husband's  eyes.  Could  I,  then,  take 
one  iota  from  the  orphan  child  of  my  benefac 
tors  ?  The  log-house  was  replaced  by  a  frame 
one,  or  rather  a  new  house  was  built  upon  another 
part  of  the  farm. 

"  Scarcely  two  years  had  passed  when  again  the 
house  was  made  glad  by  the  ringing  voice  of  a 
child.  A  little  girl  was  born,  and  now  no  Cath- 


NAOMI.  293 

olic  saint  was  called  upon,  but  the  Scripture, 
beautiful,  simple  name  of  Ruth  was  given  her." 
Naomi  had  observed,  when  they  first  arrived, 
that  the  witch  had  started  when  she  called  her 
sister  by  the  name  of  Ruth. 

"  The  little  girl  was  scarcely  one  year  old 
when  her  father  became  uneasy  and  discontent 
ed,  sometimes  gloomy.  He  was  often  reading  and 
pondering  upon  the  marriage  certificate  of  the  pa 
rents  of  his  wife,  which  had  fallen  into  his  pos 
session  with  the  property,  and  the  result  of  it  all 
was,  that  he  determined  to  go  to  England  with 
his  wife  to  have  the  marriage  proved,  and  lay 
claim  to  the  inheritance  that  had  probably  fallen 
to  her.  His  friends  tried  to  dissuade  him  from 
this  futile,  and,  as  they  told  him,  useless  project ; 
but,  as  I  had  suspected  before,  the  love  of  money 
lay  at  the  root  of  his  character ;  he  would  not  be 
dissuaded.  They  went  to  ®alem  and  took  pas 
sage  in  a  small  vessel  from  thence.  It  wrung 
the  poor  young  mother's  heart  to  part  with  the 
babe  ;  but  the  father  would  not  think  of  taking 
it  unless  I  would  go  with  them.  But  my  con 
science  was  not  free  to  go,  having  taken  the 
oath  with  all  the  others  never  to  reveal  my  mas 
ter's  place  of  retreat.  I  thought,  too,  that  as  he 
had  renounced  his  name  and  his  inheritance,  it 
was  not  for  a  stranger  to  step  in  and  lay  claim 


294  NAOMI. 

to  them.  But  to  the  great  contentation  and  joy 
of  my  heart,  the  little  Ruth  was  left  with  me." 
The  witch  paused  once  more.  It  seemed  as 
though  she  again  wished  to  shut  the  book  of 
memory. 

"Well,"  said  Naomi,  "is  it  too  painful  for 
you  to  proceed  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  common  saying,"  continued  the 
witch,  "  that  the  heart  grows  languid  and  cold 
as  we  advance  in  life.  Those  have  always  been 
languid  and  cold  who  say  so.  No ;  as  one  after 
another  our  dear  ones  drop  away  or  leave  us,  all 
the  heart's  love  is  centred  upon  those  that  re 
main.  The  little  Ruth  grew  to  be  a  lovely 
child.  All  the  graces  and  charms  of  her  ances 
tors  seemed  to  be  given  as  a  dowry  to  the  por 
tionless  babe.  She  had  her  grandmother's  deep- 
blue  eyes,  the  color  of  the  clearest  sky,  and  her 
waving  hair  hanging  all  around  her  white  shoul 
ders.  She  had  her  grandfather's  proud  look  and 
noble  bearing,  and  she  was  tender  and  docile  like 
her  own  mother.  Did  I  make  her  an  idol  ?  God 
forgive  me  if  I  did !  She  was  my  all.  Her  fa 
ther's  friends  left  her  to  my  care,  and  I  prayed 
to  God  every  night,  upon  my  bended  knees,  that 
I  might  be  true  and  faithful  in  my  duty. 

"  One  year  passed  away  and  we  heard  nothing 
of  her  parents,  or  of  the  vessel  in  which  they 


NAOMI.  295 

sailed.  But  passages  were  long  then,  and  per 
haps  she  had  gone  out  of  her  course.  We 
waited  ;  —  another  and  another  year  also  passed, 
and  there  were  no  tidings.  I  went  to  Salem  and 
saw  the  owners  of  the  vessel  j  they  had  given 
her  up  for  lost.  Ah  !  who  now  did  that  dear 
child  belong  to,  —  to  her  grandfather,  her  fa 
ther's  father,  for  he  was  living,  or  to  me  ?  They 
did  not  want  her,  but  they  wanted  the  acres  that 
her  father  had  left.  I  now  presented  my  claim 
for  twenty-four  years'  services.  It  would  have 
almost  purchased  the  farm,  and  I  should  have 
thus  secured  it  to  my  little  Ruth.  But,  no  ;  I 
had  no  note,  no  promise,  to  show,  no  obligation 
on  the  part  of  their  son  ;  and  how  did  they 
know,  they  asked  me,  that  the  whole  had  not 
been  paid  ?  This  wrung  my  heart,  —  I  said  no 
more.  Ruth's  grandfather  took  possession  of 
the  farm  and  the  framed  house,  as  her  guardian, 
he  said,  and  he  had  indeed  been  appointed  her 
guardian  by  the  Court  of  Probate.  He  put  a 
tenant  into  the  house,  and  let  the  farm  for  the 
benefit  of  the  little  orphan,  as  it  was  said  j  and 
he  gained  high  praise  for  his  liberality,  by  allow 
ing  me  to  live  rent-free,  as  it  was  said,  in  the 
old  log-house.  I  did  not  choose  to  be  indebted 
to  his  generosity,  and  it  was  agreed  between  us, 
but  not  known  to  the  world,  that  the  little  Ruth 


296  NAOMI. 

should  remain  with  me  (it  would  have  taken  all 
the  horses  in  New  England  to  have  torn  her 
from  me) ;  but  her  board  was  an  equivalent  for 
the  rent  of  the  log-house.  Ah !  my  dear  young 
lady,  this  was  a  trial  for  my  still  proud  nature, 
to  receive  even  the  semblance  of  a  favor  from  a 
man  who  had  doubted  my  honesty,  who  had 
dared  to  say  that  I  had  lied  for  the  sake  of 
gain.  The  day  will  come  when  the  secrets  of 
all  hearts  and  lives  will  be  revealed,  and  those 
who  have  here  been  covered  with  the  rags  of 
opprobrium  and  ignominy  will  put  on  the  white 
robes  of  innocence." 

Naomi's  sympathy  was  deeply  excited  ;  her 
voice  was  impeded  by  tears ;  at  length  she  said, 
—  "  You  had  the  comfort  of  the  little  girl.  Ruth 
was  a  solace  to  you.  She  never  was  torn  from 
you.  But  how,  may  I  ask,  did  you  incur  the 
displeasure  of  the  government  ?  How  did  you 
get  the  ill-will  of  your  neighbours  ?  —  for  I  have 
heard  that  you  were  banished,  and  you  know 
that  I  cannot  believe  that  you  deserve  to  be  cut 
off  from  the  fellowship  of  Christians." 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

"  Her  whom  the  world  had  cast  without  its  pale, 
'T  is  thine  with  ever-cheering  voice  to  hail  j 
To  call  from  deepest  shade  to  purest  light 
The  noble  soul,  whom  none  beside  invite." 

11  IT  was  not  strange,"  continued  the  witch, 
"  that  I  was  considered  a  singular  being,  —  that 
my  eventful  life  and  my  lonely  situation  should 
have  drawn  upon  me  the  curiosity  of  those, 
whom  I  verily  believe,  if  they  had  known  the 
particulars  of  my  life,  would  have  befriended 
me.  But  I  was  no  talker,  and  I  felt  bound  in 
honor  not  to  reveal  circumstances  about  my  mas 
ter  and  mistress  which  they  had  sought  to  con 
ceal.  My  reserve  offended  my  neighbours. 
Then  I  did  not  become  a  member  of  the  Puritan 
church.  I  was  born  in  a  Catholic  family,  and  I 
had  no  experiences  to  relate  of  conversion,  al 
though  I  had  always  sought  to  live  near  to  God, 
in  doing  mercy,  and  in  walking  humbly."  Na 
omi  sighed  so  deeply,  that  her  sigh  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  witch. 

She  paused,  and  then  again  resumed  her  nar 
rative.  "  I  had  early  a  strong  desire,  even  be- 


298  NAOMI.         ^ 

fore  I  came  to  this  country,  to  observe  and  study 
the  works  of  nature.  I  lived  in  the  country, — a 
hilly  and  fertile  country.  I  gathered  and  found 
out  the  virtues  of  plants ;  I  observed  the  causes 
of  the  different  ailments  of  animals,  and  I  was 
able  to  draw  inferences  from  all  that  I  observed. 
It  is  not  all  who  can  do  that.  God  had  given 
me  an  observing  mind,  and  I  am  humbled  that  I 
have  not  been  able  to  bring  more  good  done  by 
me  to  honor  his  gifts.  After  I  came  with  my 
master's  family  to  this  country,  and  lived  upon 
an  island  in  the  great  ocean,  I  had  every  oppor 
tunity  to  observe  the  sky  in  its  ever-varying  as 
pect,  the  mutual  influences  of  clouds  upon  the 
ocean,  and  of  the  ocean  upon  the  clouds,  and  the 
changes  produced  by  the  winds  upon  the  broad 
expanse  of  water.  I  found,  ere  long,  that  I 
could  predict  with  certainty,  almost,  what  kind 
of  weather  would  be  on  the  next,  or  even  the 
next  succeeding  day  ;  for  certain  changes  inva 
riably  follow  certain  precedents,  and  nature  in 
its  illimitable  variety  is  still  constant.  You 
must  suppose,  too,  that,  living  alone  as  we  did 
upon  the  island,  all  the  knowledge  that  we  pos 
sessed  was  brought  into  constant  use.  I  added 
to  my  knowledge  of  the  virtues  of  plants,  and 
learnt  as  much  from  as  I  taught  to  the  Indians, 
who  constantly  visited  the  island  in  their  canoes. 


NAOMI.  299 

But,  until  I  removed  to  the  mainland,  my  stud 
ies  were  for  my  own  pleasure,  and  my  knowl 
edge  was  exercised  only  for  the  benefit  of  our 
own  little  family. 

"  My  log-cabin  was  near  the  coast,  and  we 
lived  in  the  midst  of  seafaring  people.  I  was  a 
lone  woman  ;  the  changes  and  sorrows  of  fifty 
years  had  ploughed  my  face  with  deep  furrows, 
and  robbed  me  of  all  the  comeliness  I  ever  pos 
sessed.  Perhaps  I  looked  like  a  witch.  I  know 
not  how  it  began,  but  the  neighbours  came  to 
me  to  ask  advice  in  the  ailments  of  their  an 
imals,  and  sometimes  even  in  their  own.  I  took 
no  fee,  and  thus  made  the  physician  my  enemy. 
The  fishermen  began  to  come  to  me  to  tell  them 
what  weather  would  be  on  the  morrow,  or  if 
they  should  have  a  night  of  successful  fishing. 
I  used  no  artifice,  no  deception,  always  telling 
them  the  simple  truth,  and  the  reason  for  my 
faith  in  the  signs  of  the  atmosphere. 

"  The  relations  of  my  dear  little  Ruth  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  her  existence.  They  left  her 
wholly  to  me,  and  I  was  too  happy  to  work  hard 
for  our  maintenance.  Perhaps  I  was  wrong,  but 
I  was  so  afraid  of  her  relations  taking  her  from 
me,  that  I  would  not  remind  them  of  her  exist 
ence  by  applying  for  what  was  really  her  own. 
I  looked  forward  to  the  future,  when  all  should 


300  NAOMI. 

be  restored  to  her ;  but  while  she  was  an  infant, 
I  would  be  her  protection  and  support." 

The  witch  paused.  "  Was  I  wrong  ?  "  she 
said. 

Naomi  was  so  absorbed  in  her  narrative  she 
could  not  at  first  answer.  She  merely  said,  — 
"  You  wronged  only  yourself." 

"  The  first  thing,  I  believe,  that  caused  the 
neighbours  to  whisper  their  idle  suspicions  and 
calumnies,  and  drew  the  curiosity  of  others  upon 
me,  was,  that  the  fishermen  would  come  to  my 
cottage  and  ask  me,  as  they  called  it,  to  give 
them  a  favorable  wind.  My  predictions  of  the 
weather  were  almost  constantly  true,  and  many 
of  them  offered  me  money.  I  always  refused  it, 
and  they  would  force  it  upon  the  little  Ruth, 
who  was  playing  about  the  cottage.  There  was 
nothing  wrong  in  this,  for  my  science  in  the 
weather  had  been  obtained  by  attention  and 
study.  But  it  fixed  a  stigma  upon  me.  I  took 
pay,  as  they  said,  for  my  supernatural  knowl 
edge,  obtained  by  my  intercourse  with  familiar, 
wicked  spirits.  In  the  dead  of  the  night,  when 
my  solitary  candle  lighted  my  honest  labors,  I 
was  entertaining  diabolical  visitors,  and  the 
money  I  received  was  the  coin  of  the  Devil. 
I  was  shunned  and  deserted  ;  the  feet  of  the  pass 
ers-by  turned  off,  and  left  the  path  to  my  cot- 


NAOMI.  301 

tage  overgrown  with  weeds ;  even  the  innocent 
Ruth  was  shunned  and  jeered  by  the  school 
children  as  the  witch's  child.  If  I  ventured  out 
in  the  street,  those  I  met  would  pass  on  the 
other  side.  At  the  house  of  God,  the  bench 
upon  which  I  sat  was  left  empty,  and  those  who 
usually  occupied  it  would  crowd  themselves  upon 
others  that  were  already  full.  The  deacons  vis 
ited  me  ;  they  seemed  to  have  prejudged  the 
cause,  and  I  sighed  to  think  that  a  little  farthing 
taper,  if  carried  before  the  eye,  would"  blind  it 
to  the  light  of  the  sun. 

"  There  came  a  hard,  a  terribly  severe  winter  ; 
there  was  a  universal  disease  and  mortality  among 
the  cattle  all  around  the  coast ;  it  was  not  a  sim 
ple  ailment  such  as  I  had  seen  before,  and  it  baf 
fled  all  my  skill  in  simple,  innoxious  remedies. 
The  evil  that  I  could  not  cure  I  was  accused  of 
causing.  The  mortality  among  £he  cattle  was 
laid  at  the  witch's  door,  and  all  the  other  calam 
ities  that  visited  the  people.  As  soon  as  the  ball 
of  scandal  was  set  in  motion,  like  the  snow-ball, 
it  accumulated  at  every  turn.  You  must  have 
heard  of  and  remember  all  the  rest.  I  was  tried 
and  condemned  as  a  witch,  and  was  only  saved 
from  hanging,  and  condemned  to  banishment,  by 
the  clemency  of  the  judge.  I  was  a  witch,  a 
declared  witch  by  the  highest  tribunal  of  this 


302  NAOMI. 

land  ;  I,  whose  only  art  was  the  gift  of  ob 
servation,  whose  only  sorcery  was  a  retentive 
memory. 

"  It  is  now  ten  years  since  I  was  banished  from 
the  fellowship  of  Christians,  from  the  pale  of 
civilization.  Thank  God,  I  .was  permitted  to 
bring  my  only  treasure  with  me,  —  my  child  and 
that  faithful  animal."  The  dog  raised  himself  on 
his  fore  paws  and  looked  wistfully  in  the  witch's 
face ;  but  finding  he  was  not  called,  he  reposed 
again.  "  The  relations  opposed  no  obstacle  to  my 
taking  the  child  with  me  into  banishment.  It 
left  them  at  full  liberty  to  appropriate  her  prop 
erty  to  themselves  ;  but  before  I  came  here,  I 
visited  the  venerable  men  who  first  came  to  our 
island ;  through  their  influence  I  obtained  a  deed, 
by  which  the  property  was  secured  to  Ruth. 
Am  I  uncharitable  and  cynical,  think  you  ?  Ah  ! 
it  was  not  my  nature,  as  my  unbounded  trust 
in  others,  throughout  my  life,  has  proved  ;  but 
experience  has  taught  me  the  selfishness  of  the 
natural  heart ;  and  where  the  love  of  money  has 
taken  possession  of  a  mind,  the  tender  claims  of 
family,  of  brother  and  sister,  even  nearer  and 
tenderer  relations,  are  forgotten. 

"  When  the  sentence  of  banishment  was  first 
passed,  I  knew  not  where  to  go  j  but  accident, 
or  rather  a  kind  Providence,  led  me  to  this  spot. 


NAOMI.  303 

I  had  always  held  kindly  intercourse  with  the 
Indians  •  these  wild  children  of  nature  discern 
and  value  simple  gifts,  and  we  had  often  com 
pared  our  knowledge  of  simple  remedies.  They 
told  me  of  this  cabin,  sheltered  by  the  rock,  that 
had  been  built  by  some  Englishmen  who  were 
lost  in  the  woods  and  obliged  to  pass  the  winter 
here.  By  the  help  of  the  Indians  I  had  it  re 
paired,  and  made  it  the  comfortable  dwelling  you 
see.  With  my  own  hands  I  lined  it  with  the 
bark  of  the  white  oak,  which  makes  it  warm  in 
the  winter  and  dry  in  the  summer.  The  Indi 
ans  never  forsake  me  ;  they  bring  me  corn  and 
venison  and  fish,  and  I  have  never  known  want, 
but  have  always  had  food  to  spare  to  others  ;  in 
return,  they  value  my  knowledge  of  the  virtues 
of  herbs  and  plants,  in  which,  as  in  every  thing 
else  in  nature,  they  believe  dwells  the  Great 
Spirit.  They  honor  me  as  a  medicine-woman, 
or  interpreter  of  this  Great  Spirit.  I  have  been 
fed  by  Him  who  feedeth  the  ravens  when  they 
cry,  and  who  fed  Elijah  in  the  desert.  The 
smoke  of  my  humble  fire  is  seen,  as  it  rises 
above  the  trees,  by  the  Indian  and  by  the  house 
less  wanderer.  My  fire  never  goes  out.  The 
burning  log  is  buried  at  night,  and  renewed  again 
at  the  earliest  dawn,  and  its  light  shines  through 
the  forest  at  darkest  midnight.  Angels  have 


304  NAOMI. 

blessed  my  unworthy  roof-tree,  but  the  Pharisee 
and  the  soul  that  is  filled  with  spiritual  pride 
turn  away  and  pass  on  the  other  side." 

"  And  the  little  Ruth."  asked  Naomi,  "  does 
she  sleep  under  the  weeping  willow  in  the 
forest  ?  » 

"  For  two  years,"  continued  the  witch  —  "  she 
was  just  four  years  old  when  I  was  banished,  — 
that  dear  child  was  the  joy  of  my  life.  My 
cabin  was  no  prison.  She  was  the  sunbeam  that 
made  the  forest  blossom  like  a  garden.  She 
made  my  days  but  one  hour  long,  and  the  time 
that  I  slept  seemed  lost,  for  I  could  not  then  be 
hold  her  beauty  and  gladness  of  heart.  I  had 
just  counted  her  sixth  birthday  when  she  sick 
ened.  Strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  my 
knowledge  of  simple  remedies,  which  I  had 
always  employed  with  success,  now  failed  ;  I 
was  afraid  to  trust  myself,  my  skill  deserted  me  j 
my  heart  was  too  strong  for  my  science  ;  the 
intenseness  of  my  anxiety  robbed  me  of  thought 
and  memory.  Had  I,  then,  been  proud  of  my 
knowledge,  and  was  this  to  make  me  feel  my 
ignorance  ?  She  faded  and  languished  in  my 
arms.  Her  feet  and  hands,  like  the  purest  mar 
ble,  were  streaked  with  blue  veins,  till  at  last 
she  became  all  marble,  and  her  eye,  ever  turned 
upon  me  in  mute  suffering,  in  silent  love,  closed 


NAOMI.  305 

for  ever.  Then  darkness  came  over  me,  and  the 
shadow  of  the  grave.  Many  months  passed,  of 
which  I  have  no  recollection  ;  they  are  a  blank 
in  my  consciousness ;  but  these  months  turned 
my  head  white,  and  made  me  older  than  my 
years.  The  Indians  brought  me  food,  and  a 
kind  old  squaw  prepared  my  babe  for  interment. 
A  young  Indian,  that  I  had  nursed  when  ill, 
with  a  delicacy  none  would  expect  from  an  In 
dian,  travelled  to  Boston,  and  brought  the  weep 
ing-willow,  then  a  sapling,  for  he  had  observed 
that  the  whites  planted  such  at  their  graves,  and 
planted  it  on  the  spot.  '  The  tree,'  he  said, 
'  should  never  forget  to  weep  for  the  pale-face 
pappoose.'  When  I  first  looked  upon  that  little 
grave,  the  soil  was  already  green,  and  the  stran 
ger  had  taken  root  there  and  hung  its  pensile 
branches.  The  dog,  they  told  me,  had  guarded 
it,  sleeping  every  night  stretched  above  the  turf. 
I  covered  it  with  stones,  and  my  faithful  animal, 
knowing  it  was  safe,  returned  to  sleep  at  the 
cabin-door."  ,  The  dog  again  raised  himself,  and 
uttered  a  low  whine. 

Naomi  was  deeply  affected,  but  she  had  not  a 
single  word  to  offer.  She  was  too  simple  and 
sincere  in  her  sympathy  to  offer  words  of  conso 
lation,  where  she  felt  there  was  none,  except  in 
the  resignation  the  narrator  had  already  attained. 
20 


306  NAOMI. 

She  felt  that  it  would  have  been  mockery,  al 
most  an  insult,  to  offer  to  that  lofty  being,  mute 
in  her  wrongs,  silent  under  the  oppression  of 
horrible  injustice,  words  of  common  consolation. 
She  looked  at  her  with  sentiments  of  reverence, 
almost  of  veneration.  This  noble  creature, 
whose  heart  was  full  of  the  most  generous  and 
disinterested  love,  had  accepted  sacrifice  and  self- 
forgetfulness  as  her  portion  through  life  ;  this  be 
ing,  of  woman's  tenderest  nature,  had  laid  down, 
without  a  word  of  open  regret,  the  dearest  wish 
of  woman's  heart,  to  put  on  servitude  and  accept 
of  exile  in  the  cause  of  those  she  loved  ;  this 
gifted  intellect  had  bowed  to  ignorance  and  big 
otry,  and  had  been  compelled  to  receive  exist 
ence  as  a  boon,  although  passed  in  solitude  and 
isolation.  "Ah!"  thought  Naomi,  "such  lofty, 
but  lowly  beings  pass  silently,  unobtrusively, 
through  life,  while  the  Pharisee,  the  ranter,  and 
the  hypocrite  have  their  ostentatious  deeds  bla 
zoned  upon  their  tombstones." 

The  dawn  was  crimson  with  aa  almost  over 
powering  glory  when  the  travellers  were  again 
on  their  horses,  and  were  waiting  with  Naomi's 
mare  at  the  door  of  the  cabin.  Ruth  awoke  gay 
as  the  birds  that  sung  at  the  same  hour  of  dawn. 
She  had  lost  all  fear  of  the  witch,  and  as  she 
leaped  to  the  pillion,  behind  her  cavalier,  she 


NAOMI.  307 

held  out  her  hand,  and  insisted  that  the  witch 
should  tell  her  fortune.  For  the  first  time  a 
smile  stole  over  the  features  of  the  woman. 
"  You  will  be  happy,"  she  said ;  and  then,  look 
ing  at  Naomi,  who  had  just  mounted  her  horse, 
she  added,  "  The  rain  rolls  off  from  the  bud, 
that  breaks  down  the  full-blown  flower." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

I  FEAR  that  I  have  wearied  my  readers  by 
dwelling  too  long  upon  the  history  of  the  woman 
who  was  actually  banished  for  witchcraft.  It 
was,  however,  a  feature  of  the  age,  and  may  be 
considered  a  prelude  to  the  horrible  tragedies 
that  were  afterwards  acted  upon  nearly  the 
same  soil. 

Our  travellers  continued  their  journey  without 
any  unusual  incidents,  over  what  seemed  to  the 
ladies  mountain  paths,  and  along  the  borders  of 
lakes  and  morasses,  crossing  and  fording  rivers, 
where  the  water  came  up  to  the  stirrup-irons,  or 
sometimes,  as  seemed  far  more  dangerous  to 
their  inexperience,  in  an  Indian  birch-bark  canoe. 
They  became  hardened  to  the  fatigue  ;  to  Na 
omi  it  was  a  perpetual  pleasure  to  sit  her  horse 
all  day,  and  lie  down  at  night  under  the  canopy 
of  the  sky.  She  forgot  that  danger  and  dis 
grace  awaited  the  close  of  her  long  holiday. 
She  became  acquainted  with  all  the  aspects  of 
nature,  the  forest,  and  its  denizens.  The  agile 
and  graceful  deer,  as  they  frequently  started  at 
the  horses'  hoofs,  and  darted  across  the  forest 


NAOMI.  309 

paths,  drew  her  delighted  admiration.  The  In* 
dian,  observing  this,  caught,  with  a  running  noose 
of  leather,  a  beautiful  young  doe,  of  a  rich  brown 
color  shaded  off  into  a  delicate  fawn.  He  in 
tended  to  lead  her  along  till  she  became  tame, 
and  then  give  her,  as  a  plaything,  to  Ruth.  But 
she  would  not  be  led ;  she  pined  away  with  mel 
ancholy  and  fear,  refused  all  food,  and  would 
often  lie  down  and  gaze  at  them  with  her  mel 
ancholy  eyes.  She  seemed  to  have  human 
thoughts  of  bereavement  and  isolation  from  her 
fellows.  Naomi  bought  her  of  the  Indian  in  or 
der  to  give  her  her  liberty  j  but  to  this  none  of 
the  party  would  consent ;  she  was  a  fair  prize, 
they  said,  and  would  yield  them  food  and  a  beau 
tiful  doeskin  as  a  trophy.  God  had  given  all 
animals  to  be  for  the  use  of  man,  said  the  elder ; 
and  to  set  free  one  that  they  had  captured  was 
a  refinement  of  humanity  beyond  even  the  ten 
derly  humane  code  of  our  fathers.  The  inno 
cent  creature,  therefore,  fell  under  the  knife,  fix 
ing  her  tearful  eyes  in  mute  entreaty  upon  her 
butcher. 

It  is  not  my  purpose,  neither  would  it  be  in 
my  power,  to  enter  into  a  minute  account  of  the 
whole  of  this  journey  to  New  Haven.  Suffice  it 
to  say,  that  at  the  end  of  three  weeks  our  travel 
lers  saw  the  blue  waves  of  the  Connecticut  rolling 


310  NAOMI. 

before  them.  They  left  the  gentleman  who  had 
hitherto  been  the  cavalier  of  Ruth  at  Hartford, 
to  be  united  to  his  bride,  while  the  rest  of  the 
party,  leaving  a  part  of  their  horses  and  baggage, 
proceeded  by  water  to  New  Haven.  The  ladies 
were  received  with  the  most  paternal  welcome, 
under  the  hospitable  roof  of  the  second  Win- 
throp,  a  son  of  the  first  governor  of  Massachu 
setts,  and  second,  as  Cotton  Mather  says  he 
could  be,  only  to  a  Winthrop.  He  displayed  for 
his  guests  all  the  charms  of  his  conversation, 
and  unfolded  all  the  attractions  of  his  philosophy 
and  literature.  He  would  fain  have  kept  the 
ladies  all  winter,  and  would  have  been  to  them 
a  most  paternal  guardian.  Happy  would  it  have 
been  for  Naomi  had  she  yielded  to  the  kind  so 
licitations  of  his  hospitality  ;  but  she  was  drawn 
by  an  invisible  and  unacknowledged,  but  by  an 
irresistible,  attraction  back  to  Boston.  There  was 
no  magnetic  telegraph  in  those  days  ;  but  Naomi 
was  under  a  magnetic  influence,  and  every  pul 
sation  of  the  air  in  the  one  place  vibrated  to  the 
pulsations  of  her  heart  in  the  other.  She  could 
not  consent  to  be  left  behind.  They  returned 
in  the  same  vessel  to  Hartford,  where  the  travel 
lers'  again  mounted  their  horses,  and  Naomi  and 
her  intelligent  little  horse  became  again,  to  their 
mutual  joy,  companions  for  the  rest  of  the 
journey. 


NAOMI.  311 

They  had  been  detained  much  beyond  the 
calculations  of  the  wisest  of  their  party.  Their 
two  voyages  around  the  mouth  of  the  river  had 
been  somewhat  lengthened  by  contrary  winds,' 
and  as  they  mounted  their  horses  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  very  last  day  of  October,  and  a  brisk 
wind  from  the  north  blew  in  their  faces,  they 
felt  that  it  would  be  the  extreme  of  imprudence 
to  be  longer  dilatory.  Naomi  felt  that  she  had 
too  much  seduced  them  to  make  the  journey  an 
excursion  of  pleasure.  They  had  lingered  on 
the  way,  attracted  by  scenes  of  sublimity  and 
beauty  that  many  of  the  party  would  never  be 
hold  again.  Their  plan  was  now  formed,  that 
every  day's  journey  should  be  a  long  one,  and 
that  they  would  neither  turn  aside  nor  be  se 
duced  to  linger  on  their  path. 

After  a  few  days  of  steady  travel,  they  en 
tered  upon  that  beautiful  season  which  the  Cath 
olics  ascribe  to  the  gift  of  St.  Martin,  but  which 
we  in  the  New  World  call  the  Indian  summer. 
A  light  mist  hung  over  the  country,  and  every 
grand  feature  of  the  landscape  was  seen  through 
a  silver  tissue-like  haze,  and  the  autumn  sun 
looked,  through  the  misty  morning,  like  the  full 
moon  in  August.  They  had  again  entered  the 
forest,  and  though  the  progress  of  decay  had 
made  rapid  steps,  it  seemed  to  Naomi  to  wear  a 


312 


NAOMI. 


more  touching  beauty  than  when  the  trees  were 
arrayed  in  all  that  gorgeousness  and  pomp  of 
color  which  they  wear  in  October.  The  oaks 
alone  retained  their  faded  regalia,  but  the  forest 
paths  were  heaped  with  fallen  leaves,  and  the 
whole  surface  of  the  ground  shaded  all  over  with 
every  tint  of  brown  and  orange.  A  rich  and 
vivid  embroidery  was  spread  over  the  fallen 
trunks,  the  decaying  stumps,  and  the  obtruding 
rocks,  by  creeping  vines  of  vivid  colors,  that  hung 
like  decorations  and  fringes  upon  the  deep  green 
of  the  hemlocks  and  pines,  intermixed  with  the 
dark  foliage  of  the  privet  and  the  whortleberry, 
yet  unchanged  by  the  autumn.  Flocks  of  silent 
birds  fed  upon  the  scarlet  berries  of  the  moun 
tain-ash  and  the  black  alder,  and  troops  of  squir 
rels  gathered  up  the  fallen  nuts. 

The  morning  mists  were  dispersed  at  noon 
day,  and  the  sunbeams,  shining  through  the 
nearly  naked  branches,  checkered  the  ground 
with  twinkling  light  and  shadow  ;  but  in  deeply 
shaded  spots  the  dew  hung  in  fringes  of  mist 
upon  the  edges  of  the  leaves.  Scarcely  a  word 
was  spoken  by  our  travellers  ;  the  only  sound 
was  the  measured  and  deadened  tread  of  their 
horses'  hoofs  upon  the  paths,  thick  and  heavy 
with  fallen  leaves.  The  woods  were  so  still 
that  the  fluttering  and  falling  of  a  leaf  almost 


NAOMI,  313 

made  the  heart  beat,  and  the  spent  winds,  that 
had  driven  the  ocean  mountains  high,  and  raged 
all  along  the  coast,  came  to  die  away  in  the  for 
est,  just  quivering  the  footstalk  of  an  aspen-leaf. 
The  forest  seemed  not  to  Naomi  so  deeply  and 
darkly  solemn  as  when  covered  with  the  um 
brageous  verdure  of  summer,  where  the  sun 
beam  could  scarcely  penetrate  ;  but  it  was  filled 
with  a  tenderer  and  more  touching  beauty.  The 
ancients  built  their  temples  in  thick  groves,  in 
the  radiance  and  glory  of  nature  ;  but  it  seemed 
to  Naomi  that  the  worship  of  sorrow,  as  our  re 
ligion  has  been  called,  was  more  appropriately 
placed  in  the  stripped  forest,  where  the  sunbeam, 
like  love,  could  penetrate  and  soften  decay. 

Our  party  had  now  accomplished  more  than  half 
of  their  homeward  route.  A  few  more  days  would 
place  them  again  at  their  own  firesides.  Although 
in  no  degree  wearied,  they  felt  the  necessity  of 
despatch  on  account  of  the  lateness  of  the  season, 
and  they  allowed  themselves  but  one  hour  at 
noon  to  refresh  their  beasts.  This  hour  the  In 
dian  always  marked  with  the  truest  precision, 
and  although  the  elder  consulted  his  watch,  it 
was  never  so  true  as  the  instinct  of  the  In 
dian. 

The  weather,  that  had  hitherto  been,  though 
cold,  yet  serene  and  beautiful,  became  suddenly 


314  NAOMI. 

dark  and  lowering.  The  bank  of  clouds  they 
had  seen,  whenever  upon  an  eminence,  reposing 
dark  and  threatening  in  the  east  and  the  south, 
began  to  unfold  and  roll  up  its  heavy  masses,  till 
the  whole  atmosphere  was  covered  with  a  leaden- 
colored  veil.  The  wind,  hitherto  so  hushed, 
now  sobbed  through  the  leafless  branches,  or 
suddenly  whirled  up  the  whole  bed  of  leaves 
upon  their  path.  The  temperature  had  also 
changed;  it  had  become  damp  and  intensely 
chilling,  and  they  all  felt  the  necessity  of  a 
quicker  motion  to  keep  their  blood  in  circula 
tion.  They  hastened  as  much  as  the  path  would 
allow,  silently  and  in  single  file,  along  the 
woods  for  miles,  and  as  they  came  to  an  opening 
they  saw  the  Indian  before  them  on  a  little 
mound,  observing  intently  the  signs  of  the 
weather.  When  they  came  up,  he  held  out  his 
open  palm,  upon  the  horny  skin  of  which  a  flake 
of  snow  was  slowly  melting,  and  pointed  with 
the  other  to  the  lurid  sky,  now  of  a  dense  and 
uniform  slate-color.  Snow  at  the  opening  of  No 
vember  was  not  unusual,  and  in  these  early  years 
of  our  history  it  sometimes  fell  to  a  great  depth. 
The  party  began  to  feel  that  they  had  yielded  to 
too  many  delays,  although  their  journey  until 
now  had  been  eminently  prosperous.  The  ladies 
gayly  drew  their  hoods  over  their  heads,  and 


NAOMI.  315 

agreed  that  a  snow-storm  would  form  an  agree 
able  variety  to  their  experience  of  the  woods. 
It  soon  began  to  fall  in  large,  damp  flakes,  and 
the  whole  air  was  so  filled,  that  it  seemed  as  if 
ten  thousand  feather-beds  had  suddenly  been 
emptied  around  them.  As  the  snow  descended, 
the  atmosphere  became  soft  and  calm  ;  the  per 
petual  descent  of  the  snow-flakes,  falling,  falling, 
and  melting  as  they  fell,  produced  almost  a  mag 
ical  deception,  as  this  thick  fleece  sank  away 
into  the  ground.  At  last  white  patches  began  to 
appear,  varying  the  brown  of  the  surface,  till  at 
length  a  perfect  and  spotless  carpet  of  white  cov 
ered  the  ground,  and  seemed  for  a  short  time  to 
dispel  the  gloom  of  approaching  night. 

The  snow,  with  noiseless  industry,  continued 
to  weave  thicker  and  thicker  the  warm  blanket 
upon  which  their  horses  were  treading,  deaden 
ing  the  sound  of  their  hoofs,  except  when  they 
struck  a  protruding  stone  and  the  sudden  flash 
was  reflected  upon  the  white  surface.  The 
breath  of  the  horses  condensed  and  hung  in  drops 
around  their  mouths  ;  the  hoods  of  the  ladies 
clung  in  damp  folds,  and  all  seemed  enveloped 
in  a  mysterious  and  shrouding  drapery  as  the 
snow  thickened  and  remained  wherever  it  fell. 
The  silence  all  around  was  deep  and  unbroken, 
except  by  the  low  and  plaintive  chirp  of  a  bird, 


316  NAOMI. 

lost  and  seeking  its  fellows,  or  by  a  squirrel 
darting  from  one  stone  to  another,  faintly  stirring 
the  leaves  beneath  the  snow,  or  by  the  neighing 
of  one  of  their  horses,  which  startled  them  as  if 
it  had  been  an  unknown  sound. 

They  had  now  again  entered  within  the  for 
est,  and  the  snow,  that  upon  the  plain  had  been 
above  the  fetlocks  of  their  horses,  scarcely  whit 
ened  the  path  ;  they  went  on,  therefore,  in  com 
parative  comfort ;  but  the  air  became  thicker 
and  thicker ;  the  darkness,  also,  was  almost  com 
plete  in  the  forest,  and  as  they  went  on,  single 
file,  each  rider  could  only  perceive  the  one  that 
immediately  preceded  him.  The  air,  too,  as  the 
night  advanced,  was  piercing  cold.  Naomi's 
fingers  were  so  sensible  of  its  influence,  that 
she  could  scarcely  hold  the  reins  ;  her  horse, 
too,  seemed  nearly  spent,  and  hardly  capable  of 
keeping  along  the  file.  The  elder  went  to  the 
head  of  the  cavalcade,  and  kept  the  Indian  by 
his  side.  The  day's  journey  seemed  so  very 
long,  that  he  became  somewhat  suspicious  of 
the  fidelity  of  their  guide.  They  proceeded 
thus  in  unbroken  silence,  Naomi  almost  blinded 
by  the  snow  that  at  every  opening  or  vista  was 
blown  furiously  against  her,  for  the  wind-storm 
had  now  arisen.  She  was  obliged  to  keep  her 
head  uncovered,  in  order  to  see  to  guide  her 


NAOMI.  317 

horse,  although  from  fatigue  and  exhaustion  she 
was  scarcely  able  to  keep  upon  the  saddle.  Ruth, 
wrapped  comfortably  in  her  fur  cloak  and  hoodr 
had  only  to  hold  fast  by  the  belt  of  the  servant 
before  her.  It  was  so  long  since  she  had  spoken, 
that  Naomi,  believing  she  had  fallen  asleep,  sent 
forward  her  scarf,  and  directed  the  servant  to 
pass  it  around  Ruth  and  fasten  it  to  his  own  belt, 
so  that  no  accident  could  loosen  her  hold  of  this 
support.  The  newly  married  clerk  did  the  same 
by  his  young  wife,  and  thus  they  travelled  on  in 
greater  security. 

Their  goal  for  the  night  was  a  woodman's 
log-cabin,  where  they  had  passed  a  night  on 
their  outward  way,  and  the  day's  ride  had  been 
so  long  and  wearisome  that  all  began  to  fear  the 
Indian  had  misled  them.  They  recollected  that 
they  must  first  ford  a  stream,  and  as  they  de 
scended  a  hill  they  heard  the  sound  of  rushing 
water.  They  descended  the  bank,  and  soon  per 
ceived  that  the  stream  was  immensely  swollen, 
the  stepping-stones  entirely  lost,  and  the  stream 
only  visible  in  the  intense  darkness  by  the  flash 
ing  of  the  waves. 

Their  situation  now  was  one  of  real  distress, 
especially  for  the  ladies.  The  men  could  have 
found  means  for  fording  the  stream,  but  to  the 
three  ladies,  with  their  long  and  heavy  drapery, 


318  NAOMI. 

it  was  really  an  enterprise  attended  with  danger. 
While  they  stood  dismounted  and  clinging  to 
their  horses,  they  perceived  through  the  murky 
night  the  glimmering  of  two  lights  upon  the  op 
posite  bank,  that  seemed  moving  about  as  though 
searching  for  the  ford.  A  halo  had  gathered 
round  the  torches,  but  there  was  a  large  and 
bright  reflection,  showing  the  skeleton  branches 
and  stems  of  the  trees,  and  that  two  men  stood 
also  upon  the  bank.  They  each  led  a  horse  by 
the  bridle,  and  were  looking  for  the  best  place 
to  swim  their  horses  across  the  stream.  Their 
blazing  torches  of  resinous  pine  threw  a  strong 
light  upon  our  group  of  travellers  collected  on 
the  bank,  and  presenting  a  most  picturesque 
scene,  —  the  dark  and  swollen  stream,  rushing 
between  its  whitened  banks,  over  which  hung 
the  drooping  and  skeleton  trees,  also  loaded  with 
snow,  and  the  group  of  dismounted  travellers  ; 
the  fatigued  horses  standing  with  hanging  heads 
and  loosened  rein,  Naomi's  face  marble-white 
with  anxiety  and  fatigue,  as  she  leant  against 
and  clung  to  the  mane  of  her  horse,  the  poor 
beast  leaning  its  head  in  mute  sympathy  against 
hers,  its  glossy  black  coat  spotted  with  snow 
and  mud. 

The  relief  they  felt  at  this  most  unlooked-for 
succor  filled  their  hearts  with  grateful  joy.     One 


NAOMI.  319 

of  the  party  proposed  that  they  should  on  the 
very  spot  offer  up  their  devout  thanksgiving,  for 
the  two  young  men  had  already  swam  the  swol 
len  stream  and  stood  with  their  horses  amid  the 
weary  group.     Naomi  felt  her  heart  beat  quick, 
and  swell  with  a  secret,  but  intense  joy,  when 
she  saw  that  one  of  them  was  Herbert  Walton, 
attended  by  a  friend  and  classmate.     Two  other 
men  now  came  up,  with  torches,  and,  as  the  safest 
ford  was  found,  they  prepared  to  cross.     Herbert 
had  already  pressed  to  Naomi's  side ;  with  earnest 
warmth,  he  was  urging  her  to  alight,  for  they 
had  again  mounted  their  horses,  and  to  allow 
him  and  his  friend  to  carry  her  across.      She 
thought  her  own  faithful  but  wearied  and  droop 
ing  mare  would  as  usual  serve  her  faithfully,  and 
steadily  refused  his  request ;  but  she  consented 
at  last  to  take  his  own  horse,  which  was  quite 
fresh,  having  travelled  but  two  miles  this  even 
ing,  and  the   saddles  were  quickly  exchanged. 
Naomi  expected  to  see  Herbert  mount  her  own 
poor  brute,  but  he  gave  the  rein  to  one  of  the 
men,  and   placed  himself  at   the   head   of  her 
horse  ;  no  urging  would  induce  him  to  mount, 
and,  as  he  could  not  avail  himself  of  the  stepping- 
stones,  he  was  soon  above  his  waist  in  the  swol 
len  stream,  holding  the  head  of  her  horse  and 
guiding  him  gently  along.     This  act  of  devotion 


320  NAOMI. 

seemed  to  Naomi  too  great  for  her  to  accept ;  it 
sank  deeply  into  her  heart,  exciting  a  secret,  but 
fervent  joy,  mingled  also  with  regret  and  fear, 
and  an  emotion  of  timid  and  self-deprecatory 
humility.  The  sensitive  can  understand  what 
it  is  not  easy  to  describe,  —  that  feeling  of  hu 
mility,  that  shrinking  from  love,  as  too  great 
a  bliss,  that  feeling  of  unworthiness  to  accept 
a  gift  so  disproportioned  to  our  deserts.  These 
thoughts  crowded  upon  Naomi,  and  when  she 
spoke  her  words  were  mingled  with  tears. 

As  for  Herbert,  he  felt  an  unmingled  joy.  He 
was  near,  he  was  protecting,  her  who  was  to  him 
the  most  precious  object  on  this  earth.  What 
was  the  water  ?  —  he  felt  it  not !  With  wings  at 
his  heart,  at  his  head,  he  was  passing  through  the 
downy  atmosphere  of  love.  He  was  near  her  ; 
his  right  hand  was  placed  in  hers,  while  with 
the  left  he  held  the  rein  close  to  the  horse's 
head ;  he  felt  her  breath  upon  his  cheek  ;  a  false 
step  of  the  horse,  and  she  must  have  fallen  into 
his  arms.  What  then  to  him  was  night,  or  wet, 
or  cold  ?  He  could  have  measured  kingdoms 
thus  in  her  service,  nor  felt  a  sense  of  weari 
ness  or  want.  Such  is  love  in  the  season  of 
generous  youth.  Its  wings  are  strong  ;  they  are 
also  white  and  unspotted.  No  selfish,  impure, 
or  ignoble  thought  can  sully  the  pure  swan's- 
down  of  first  love. 


NAOMI.  321 

The  party  had  nearly  all  passed  the  ford,  and 
were  mounting  their  horses  again.  Herbert  still 
held  Naomi's  rein,  but  she  was  looking  around, 
anxious  to  see  Ruth  approach  her,  when  a  fear 
ful  shriek  was  heard  close  behind  her.  There 
was  instantly  the  greatest  confusion  ;  all  rushed 
to  the  bank  again,  and  when  the  torches  were 
collected  in  one  spot,  poor  Ruth  was  seen,  borne 
down  by  her  heavy  garments,  and  struggling 
with  the  swollen  waters.  It  was  but  the  work 
of  a  second.  Herbert  rushed  to  her  ;  the  water 
had  scarcely  penetrated  through  her  thick  riding- 
dress  when  he  bore  her  in  his  arms  up  the  bank. 
She  was  unused  to  sitting  a  horse  alone,  but  it 
was  necessary  in  fording  the  river  that  her  horse 
should  be  led,  and  thus  she  was  left  alone  upon 
the  man's  saddle.  Ruth,  numbed  by  cold  and 
over-fatigued,  had  lost  her  hold,  and  slipped  from 
the  horse  into  the  river  as  he  climbed  the  bank. 

Although  Naomi  could  neither  have  foreseen 
nor  prevented  the  accident,  she  could  scarcely 
forgive  herself  that  she  had  not  asked  Herbert  to 
leave  her  and  protect  Ruth.  She  felt  that  per 
haps,  absorbed  in  her  new  joy,  she  had  for  a  mo 
ment  forgotten  her  sister.  For  the  remainder  of 
the  short  ride  to  the  woodman's  cabin  she  kept 
Ruth  at  her  side.  Herbert  would  not  quit  her 
rein,  but  walked  the  short  distance  before  her. 
21 


322  NAOMI. 

Every  heart  was  sobered  and  every  mind  thought 
ful.  Ruth  had  been  rescued  from  a  terrible  dan 
ger,  and  all  had  received  signal  mercies.  When 
the  party  reached  the  woodman's  cottage,  and 
could  look  into  each  other's  faces  by  the  brilliant 
light  of  the  pine  fire,  there  could  be  seen  on 
each  countenance  various  and  deep  emotions. 

Herbert,  as  he  looked  at  Naomi  and  saw  that 
open  mirror  of  feeling,  radiant  with  an  angelic 
expression  which  seemed  only  the  reflection  of 
deeper  emotions  than  those  of  gratitude,  thought 
he  read  there  the  bliss  of  his  whole  future  life. 
The  stern  Puritans  were  some  of  them  moved 
even  to  tears,  and  that  night  there  was  no  mere 
formal  prayer  from  pious  lips  alone  ;  the  heart 
poured  out  its  deep  thankfulness  in  fervent 
words,  and  in  silent  tears,  wrung  from  the  deep 
fountains  of  the  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  woodman's  cottage  where  our  travellers 
were  now  sheltered  was  not  noticed  in  the  first 
part  of  the  journey.  Although  in  the  midst  of 
woods,  it  stood  upon  the  very  verge  of  civili 
zation,  and  after  this  night  the  travellers  would 
find  comfortable  resting-places,  however  rude, 
till  they  reached  Boston.  The  woodman  possess 
ed  the  patriarch's  blessing,  a  house  well  filled 
with  sons  and  daughters.  He  and  his  sturdy 
boys  gained  their  living  by  thinning  the  forests 
all  around,  and  in  the  winter,  after  the  welcome 
snows  descended,  sledding  the  wood  to  the  Bos 
ton  market. 

The  rain  during  the  night  had  again  become  a 
heavy  snow ;  and  when  our  travellers  looked  out 
in  the  morning,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  was 
one  unbroken  surface  of  dazzling  white.  The 
heavy  leaden-colored  clouds  were  indeed  drawing 
oif,  and  here  and  there  were  streaks  of  delicate 
blue  between  ;  but  a  foot's  depth  of  damp,  watery 
snow  lay  upon  the  ground,  and  the  air  was  in 
tensely  chilly  and  cold. 

When  Naomi  descended,  early  in  the  morning, 


324  NAOMI. 

from  the  loft,  where  her  sleep  had  been  unbro 
ken,  she  found  the  men  of  the  party  in  deep  con 
sultation.  She  was  struck  with  the  gravity  of 
Herbert's  countenance,  which,  however,  as  soon 
as  she  entered,  was  radiant  with  joy.  They  had 
been  consulting  about  the  best  way  of  proceed 
ing.  There  was,  indeed,  but  one  way  in  which 
the  ladies  could  travel  with  comfort ;  that  was, 
for  the  woodman's  team  and  oxen  to  be  sent  for 
ward  to  break  a  path  through  the  snow.  It  was 
afterwards  arranged  that  the  stronger  portion  of 
the  party  should  precede  the  ladies,  who  would 
bring  up  the  rear  upon  a  well-broken  path. 

As  soon  as  a  moment  occurred  when  Herbert 
could  speak  to  Naomi  unobserved,  he  informed 
her,  with  as  much  delicacy  and  caution  as  possi 
ble,  that  the  escape  of  Margaret  was  known  im 
mediately  after  she  came  away ;  and  that  it  had 
been  impossible  to  conceal  from  the  officers  who 
were  employed  in  the  matter  the  active  part  she 
had  taken  in  the  escape.  "  And,"  he  added,  in  a 
low  and  tremulous  voice,  fearful  lest  he  should 
alarm  her  too  suddenly,  "  they  are  only  waiting 
for  your  return  to  act  with  the  utmost  rigor." 

Naomi  neither  fainted  nor  wept.  She  looked 
steadily  at  Herbert.  "  It  is  only  what  I  expect 
ed,"  she  said ;  "  and  I  am  certainly  obliged  to 
the  gentlemen  that  they  have  suffered  me  to 


NAOMI.  325 

take  this  pleasant  journey  through  the  forest, 
instead  of  obliging  me  to  spend  the  beautiful 
Indian  summer  shut  up  within  the  walls  of  a 
prison." 

"  As  soon  as  I  had  the  least  intimation  of  their 
design,"  continued  Herbert,  "  I  made  an  excuse 
for  accompanying  my  college  chum  into  the 
woods,  for  a  few  days'  hunting — (I  must  carry 
home  a  deer  or  two).  Of  course,  I  would  not 
even  tell  Faith,  lest  something  should  be  sus 
pected  ;  and  my  friend  David  thinks  at  this  mo 
ment  that  our  meeting  with  you  last  evening 
was  wholly  accidental." 

Naomi  looked  her  thanks,  —  she  even  took  his 
hand ;  but  that  look  was  so  eloquent  that  Her 
bert  forgot  he  had  done  any  thing,  and  was  try 
ing  to  think  what  he  could  do,  to  deserve  such  a 
grateful  smile. 

"  But,"  said  he,  "  all  will  be  of  no  avail  unless 
you  turn  aside  and  remain  in  Providence,  or  any 
where  but  Boston.  Let  me  use  the  influence  of 
a  brother,  —  let  me  be  to  you  the  voice  of  your 
mother,  and  beg  you  not  to  set  foot  in  Boston. 
You  do  not  know,  you  cannot  understand,  the 
danger  you  are  running  into." 

Herbert  had  spoken  so  earnestly  that  the  tears 
stood  in  his  eyes. 

"  It  is  too  late,"  said  Naomi;  " I  know  no  one 


326  NAOMI. 

in  Providence.  I  could,  indeed,  go  to  the  ever- 
open  door,  —  to  the  hospitable  roof  of  Roger 
Williams  j  but  the  journey  would  be  as  hazard 
ous  as  to  go  back  to  Connecticut." 

"  There  are  other  places,"  said  Herbert.  "  My 
sister,  —  O,  how  happy  would  be  my  sister  to 
receive  you,  and  how  honored  would  be  our 
humble  roof  if  you  would  dwell  there  a  few 
days ! " 

Herbert's  face  and  brow  had  become  crimson ; 
but  as  Naomi  shook  her  head,  as  though  such 
a  step  were  out  of  the  question,  he  became  pale 
and  agitated. 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Naomi ;  "  but  I  feel 
the  need  of  returning  to  my  step-father's  roof. 
Treacherous  protection  as  it  may  be  to  me,  yet 
there  is  my  proper  place,  and  there  is  Faith,  my 
best  friend.  I  must  meet  the  charge,  too  ;  that 
is  inevitable.  I  am  not  guilty,  certainly,  to  Him 
who  reads  the  heart,  and  we  must  not  tremble 
before  the  judgments  of  men." 

Naomi  had  no  one  to  consult.  She  instinc 
tively  shrank  from  accepting  the  solitary  escort  of 
Herbert,  and  she  could  not  make  a  confidant  of 
the  elder,  and  ask  him  to  divide  the  party,  so 
that  one  part  could  guard  her  to  a  place  of  safety. 
The  witch's  cabin  occurred  to  her ;  but,  although 
it  was  invested  with  a  sort  of  romance  from  the 


NAOMI.  327 

witch's  heart-rending  narrative,  she  felt  that  it 
would  be  the  most  dreary  of  retreats  from  dan 
ger.  No  ;  she  must  return  to  her  home.  She 
felt  the  need  of  being  under  a  kindred  roof, 
step-father  although  he  might  prove  to  her. 
She  felt  the  want  of  the  sympathy,  the  firm  and 
courageous  advice,  of  Faith.  She  needed  only 
to  look  into  her  hopeful  eyes,  to  hear  the  cheer 
ful  ringing  of  her  musical  voice,  to  feel  strong 
and  firm.  Yes,  she  would  return,  if  the  next 
day  she  must  flee  again.  Resolutely,  therefore, 
she  mounted  her  favorite,  now  refreshed  and 
alert  as  ever.  The  offence  she  had  committed 
was,  in  her  view  of  it,  a  sacred  duty  ;  and  she 
was  ready  to  take  the  consequences, — to  defend 
it,  or  to  bear  the  penalty. 

Naomi  would  not  allow  her  anxieties  to  throw 
,a  cloud  over  the  party  ;  they  proceeded,  there 
fore,  gayly  on  their  course,  feeling,  as  all  do  at 
the  end  of  a  long  journey,  that  home  is  more 
precious  than  ever.  Indeed,  it  is  said  that  the 
horses  even  always  rejoice  when  they  are  re 
turning  to  Boston  ;  and  that  the  crooked  streets, 
the  broken  and  uneven  pavements,  are  a  very 
Mohammed's  paradise  to  them. 

The  sun  came  out  and  turned  the  landscape 
to  fairy-land,  and  hung  a  glittering  jewel  on 
every  branch,  and  adorned  the  withered  forests, 
like  dowagers,  with  coronets  of  diamonds. 


328  NAOMI. 

Herbert  rode,  whenever  the  path  would  admit 
two,  by  the  side  of  Naomi.  The  service  he  had 
rendered  to  both  the  sisters  seemed  to  entitle 
him  to  that  place,  and  although,  when  the  elder 
rode  up,  he  gave  way  and  fell  into  the  rear,  yet 
the  moment  there  was  room  to  pass,  his  horse, 
restless  in  every  other  position,  pushed  forward, 
and  was  instantly  quiet  and  steady  by  the  side 
of  Naomi.  This  excited  the  observation  and 
the  mirth  of  the  company,  and  many  dry  Puritan 
jokes  were  uttered,  with  almost  the  same  disas 
trous  effect  as  attended  the  one  joke  of  Douce 
Davie  Deans. 

Naomi  observed  with  pain  that  Ruth  did  not 
join  in  the  mirth  ;  that  she  rode,  pale,  silent,  and 
tearful,  behind  her  cavalier,  and  took  no  part  in 
the  gayety  that  the  beautiful  day  and  the  nu 
merous  company  and  the  prospect  of  returning 
to  Boston  seemed  to  excite.  She  thought,  per 
haps,  that  she  had  suffered  from  her  plunge  in 
the  river,  and  she  would  not  draw  the  attention 
of  the  others  upon  her  unusual  taciturnity. 

Naomi  called,  and  requested  the  man  behind 
whom  she  was  placed  to  keep  as  near  as  possible 
to  her.  She  wished  to  have  her  under  her  im 
mediate  care,  to  watch  whether  it  were  illness 
that  made  her  so  unusually  sad.  But  this  was 
impossible  while  Herbert's  horse  contended  per- 


NAOMI.  329 

petually  for  the  place  next  to  Naomi.  A  bright 
thought  occurred  to  Herbert,  that  he  should  take 
Ruth  on  a  pillion  behind  himself;  he  would 
thus  have  another  reason  to  keep  his  place  in  the 
cavalcade,  that  Ruth  might  be  near  her  sister. 

Under  such  circumstances,  thrown  as  it  were 
into  intimate  relations  with  each  other,  and  Naomi 
unable  to  withdraw  from  his  protecting  side,  del 
icacy  forbade,  even  if  timidity  would  have  al 
lowed,  him  to  speak  distinctly  of  that  which 
filled  his  whole  being,  —  that  trembled  in  his 
voice,  radiated  from  the  depths  of  his  eye,  and 
wrapped  his  whole  person  in  the  garment  of  joy. 
Naomi  felt  its  influence.  There  was  no  need 
of  speech ;  their  hearts  spoke  to  each  other. 
They  felt  that,  in  the  whole  universe  attuned 
by  God  to  the  blessed  influences  of  love,  their 
hearts,  like  two  perfect  musical  instruments,  an 
swered  to  each  other,  trembled  with  the  same 
touch,  and  vibrated  to  the  same  sacred  breath. 

Nothing  occurred  to  interrupt  or  retard  the  safe 
arrival  of  our  travellers  at  their  homes.  Naomi's 
danger  had  been  whispered  among  the  party,  and, 
in  order  to  excite  as  little  attention  as  possible, 
they  returned,  not  in  company,  but  by  twos  and 
threes  to  Charlestown  and  to  Watertown  ;  some 
of  them,  and  among  these  Naomi  and  Ruth,  left 
their  horses  at  Charlestowrt,  and  crossed  the  ferry 


330  NAOMI. 

to  Boston.  They  entered  their  father's  house 
just  at  nightfall,  when  the  family  supper  had 
been  removed  and  the  Bible  placed  on  the  table 
for  the  evening  worship.  Natural  feeling  with 
our  fathers  was  so  entirely  subjected  to  the  daily 
forms  of  religion,  to  the  letter  of  the  law,  that  the 
evening  prayers  were  finished  before  any  ques 
tions  were  asked.  The  prayer,  that  had  been 
offered  every  night  for  the  safety  of  the  wander 
ing  lambs  of  the  little  flock,  was  turned  into  a 
thanksgiving  for  their  happy  return.  Naomi  and 
Ruth  joined  their  sweet  voices  in  the  hymn,  and 
at  the  last  line  Ruth  turned  towards  her  father, 
and  Naomi  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  Faith. 

While  relating,  with  lively  interest,  the  details 
of  their  journey,  Naomi  observed  the  uneasiness 
of  Mr.  Aldersey  and  the  anxiety  that  rested,  with 
so  deep  and  unusual  a  shade  of  seriousness,  up 
on  the  countenance  of  Faith.  She  said,  inter 
rupting  her  account  of  the  witch, — "I  already 
know  that  I  am  in  danger.  Tell  me  the  extent 
of  it,  that  I  may  be  prepared  to  meet  it." 

Mr.  Aldersey  now  looked  at  her  with  so  stern 
and  penetrating  a  glance  that  Naomi  felt  her  face 
glow,  even  to  the  temples.  Faith  instantly  in 
terposed,  and  asked  so  many  questions  of  Ruth, 
that  Naomi  regained  her  composure,  and  met 
her  step-father's  searching  looks  with  a  pure 


NAOMI.  331 

and  open  brow,  where  no  infirmity  of  purpose 
changed  the  pale  ivory  of  her  cheek. 

The  young  girls  had  not  yet  put  off  their 
heavy  and  travel-stained  habits.  They  had 
thrown  off  their  hats,  and  Faith  was  regarding 
with  a  look  of  pity,  mingled  a  little  with  con 
tempt,  the  broken  and  drenched  feather  of  Nao 
mi's  hat,  and  the  limp  and  faded  bow  upon 
Ruth's,  when  a  heavy  knock  was  heard  upon 
the  front  door.  Faith  started;  her  dark  com 
plexion  became  intensely  sallow,  and  a  deep 
pale  circle  formed  beneath  each  eye ;  instead  of 
fainting,  such  is  the  effect  of  fear  upon  strong, 
but  intensely  feeling  natures.  Mr.  Aldersey  look 
ed  uneasily  at  the  parlour-door,  for  he  had  heard 
Sambo  go  to  open  the  outward  one.  Naomi  and 
Ruth  were  both  carelessly  unconcerned.  They 
were  soon  aware  of  a  dispute  at  the  door.  They 
heard  Sambo  say  that  he  was  sure  he  did  not 
know,  —  he  could  not  tell,  —  he  did  not  believe, 
not  he,  that  Miss  Omai  had  got  home, — he 
did  not  s'pose  she  would  come  home  under  a 
week.  When  she  did  get  back  he  would  send 
for  the  gentlemen. 

Mr.  Aldersey  rose  and  threw  open  the  parlour- 
door.  Instantly  the  officers  of  the  law  entered. 
The  warrant  that  they  held  in  their  hand  was 
perfectly  in  order,  and  had  been  signed  more 


332  NAOMI. 

than  a  month.  Naomi  must  yield  herself,  that 
very  night,  weary  as  she  was,  to  the  unsleeping 
vigilance  of  justice.  What  a  heavy  weight  fell 
upon  the  hearts  of  all  in  that  little  circle.  Mr. 
Aldersey  felt  a  proud  and  indignant  anger,  that 
he  should  be  suspected  of  harbouring  a  Quaker 
under  his  roof,  and  repelled  the  charge  with 
scorn.  He  would  have  scorned,  had  he  known 
it,  to  have  held  under  his  roof  one  who  had  pre 
sumed  to  aid  the  accursed  sect. 

Faith,  who  had  hitherto  met  every  thing  with 
cheerful  trust,  was,  for  a  moment,  completely 
subdued.  Naomi  rose  above  them  all.  She  sur 
rendered  herself  with  humility,  but  with  a  forti 
tude  that  would  fain  revive  the  hearts  of  her 
friends.  The  only  indulgence  allowed  the  wea 
ry  prisoner  was  to  change  her  dress  before  she 
accompanied  the  officer  to  the  jail. 

It  may  excite  some  surprise  in  my  readers 
that  Naomi,  so  lovely  and  so  interesting  as  she  is 
represented,  should  have  found  no  powerful 
friend,  no  warm  advocate,  among  the  young  and 
ingenuous  people  of  Boston  to  come  forward  at 
this  time  and  espouse  her  cause.  It  must  be 
recollected  that  she  had  been  scarcely  *a  year  in 
Boston,  and  a  third  of  that  time  had  been  passed 
in  travelling  to  Connecticut.  It  is  true,  the 
young  Puritans,  the  beaux  of  the  period,  always 


NAOMI.  333 

cast  furtive  glances  at  Naomi  at  church,  and  ob 
served  every  change  in  her  dress  or  deportment  ; 
and  when  they  met  each  other,  one  said,  —  "I 
have  seen  her  "  ;  another,  —  "I  have  bowed  to 
her."  Staring,  as  it  is  now  practised,  would 
have  been  deemed  so  indecorous  and  irreverent, 
that  it  might  have  subjected  the  young  man  to  a 
seat  upon  the  pulpit-stairs.  Mr.  Aldersey  never 
invited  young  men  to  his  house,  and  the  only 
opportunities  they  had  of  seeing  her  were  those 
which  the  Sunday  and  the  Thursday  Lecture 
afforded.  Then  the  young  men  took  care  to 
follow  as  closely  behind  her  as  possible,  and 
pause  at  her  father's  door  till  it  was  closed. 

In  their  convivial  hours,  —  for  even  then  the 
young  Puritans  had  their  convivial  hours, — 
the  conversation  was  of  Aldersey's  step-daugh 
ter  ;  and  bets  were  laid  that  they  would  beard 
the  bear  in  his  den,  and  woo  or  carry  off  the 
daughter.  Whoever  has  read  the  annals  or  the 
sermons  of  the  period  has  found  most  fearful 
lamentations  over  the  degeneracies  and  back- 
slidings  of  the  young  men  of  the  day.  They 
were  probably  the  lamentations  of  the  old,  who 
had  forgotten  their  own  youth.  Ah !  while  there 
are  meetings  of  the  young,  there  will  be  "  cakes 
and  ale  " ;  and  while  there  are  colleges  for  the 
young,  there  will  be  bonfires. 


334  NAOMI. 

Naomi,  also,  could  not  give  herself  up  to  those 
expansive  feelings  that  excite  warm  sympathy 
from  others  of  her  own  sex.  She  was  conscious 
of  a  secret,  —  of  carrying  about  within  her  in 
most  heart  a  secret  so  grave,  that,  if  it  had  been 
known,  it  might  have  subjected  her  to  the  horri 
ble  fate  of  Mary  Dyer.  Although  she  was  the 
soul  of  benevolence,  and  ready  for  every  kindly 
feeling,  this  consciousness  of  being  not  exactly 
what  she  seemed  imparted  a  species  of  reserve 
to  her  manners  that  prevented  the  young  women 
of  Boston  society  from  clinging  closely  to  her. 

But  Naomi  was  young  and  courageous.  No 
deep  sorrows  had  drunk  up  and  drained  the 
springs  of  hope  within  her.  She  had  never 
passed  through  the  dry  and  burning  paths  of 
life,  where  at  every  step  some  hope  withers, 
some  support  falls  away.  She  stood  upon  the 
morning  elevations  of  life,  looking  upon  the 
sunny  paths  around.  Happy  are  those  who 
meet  with  sorrow  in  early  life,  when  the  courage 
is  high,  the  hopes  all  bright,  and  the  inexperi 
ence  of  the  world  has  as  yet  revealed  no  cold 
ness,  no  selfish-hearted  friends,  who  turn  their 
footsteps  from  the  unfortunate,  and  leave  them 
to  solitude  and  anguish  I 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

"  Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage  ; 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 
That  for  an  hermitage." 

THE  Boston  jail  was  at  this  time  a  small  and 
inconvenient  building,  situated  in  what  is  now 
Court  Street.  It  was  already  crowded  with  the 
people  called  Quakers  ;  some  of  them  treated 
with  extreme  rigor,  having  their  legs  chained  to 
heavy  logs  of  wood,^  and  obliged  at  every  step 
to  drag  after  them  a  formidable  weight.  Prison 
ers  of  both  sexes  were  crowded  together  in  the 
common  apartment,  thus  encouraging  each  other 
in  their  fanatical  excitement  and  frequently 
blasphemous  imprecations  against  the  govern 
ment,  the  religion,  and  the  ministers. '  Their 
ravings  attracted  so  often  the  attention  and  the 
sympathy  of  the  passers-by,  that  the  past  year  a 
high  wall  had  been  built  all  around  the  jail,  ren 
dering  it  still  more  gloomy  to  the  inmates. 

Naomi  had  the  good-fortune  to  be  placed  in  a 
very  small  room  by  herself.  It  was  an  attic, 
with  a  small  gable  window  with  diamond  panes. 


336  NAOMI. 

It  did  not  admit  a  fireplace,  but  she  could  endure 
any  degree  of  cold  to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  pri 
vacy  and  retirement  from  the  common  room. 
Naomi  was  humble,  and  perhaps,  in  comparing 
herself  with  her  fellow-creatures,  she  was  too 
lowly  in  her  self-esteem  ;  yet  from  the  refinement 
of  her  tastes,  and  the  beautiful  purity  of  all  her 
thoughts,  she  shrank  from  the  contact  of  daily 
intercourse  with  the  ignorant  and  the  vulgar. 
The  soul  of  benevolence  and  of  loving-kindness, 
she  yet  felt  keenly  all  that  offended  the  purity 
of  her  mind  in  low  ideas  and  vulgar  expressions. 
The  Quakers,  especially  the  females,  as  I  have 
said  before,  who  came  to  this  country,  were  of  a 
low  order  of  intellect,  and  extremely  illiterate. 
The  principle  of  their  religion  flattered  self- 
esteem  and  fostered  spiritual  pride,  and  gave  to 
their  deportment  an  offensive  degree  of  arro 
gance  and  contempt  for  others ;  while,  then, 
among  them,  she  was  not  of  them.  Naomi,  al 
though  she  differed  altogether  from  the  Orthodox 
church,  held  nothing  in  common  with  the  Quak 
ers  of  that  day  but  the  essential  principle  of 
their  faith,  the  belief  of  the  inward  voice  of 
truth  in  the  soul ;  this  she  held  above  all  other 
inspiration,  —  to  be  obeyed  and  honored  as  the 
voice  of  God,  —  obeyed  rather  than  the  authority 
of  any  church,  were  it  the  church  of  the  bish- 


NAOMI.  337 

ops,  or  the  church  of  the  elders.  She  adopted 
none  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Quakers  ;  she 
thee-d  and  thou-ed  no  one.  Her  dress  differed 
only  from  the  reigning  fashion  by  its  more  taste 
ful  simplicity ;  she  had  too  true  an  eye  for 
beauty  to  wear  the  superfluous  flounces  and  rib 
bons,  or  the  whalebones  "  that  imprisoned  Eng 
lish  women  in  the  French  cages  "  of  the  day, 
as  described  by  the  "  Simple  Cobbler  of  Aga- 
warn."  Naomi  did  not  feel,  indeed,  that  mag 
nanimous  contempt  which  the  cobbler  expresses 
for  such  devotees  to  fashion,  as  to  call  them 
"  the  very  gizzard  of  a  trifle,  the  product  of  a 
quarter  of  a  cipher,  the  epitome  of  nothing,  fit 
only  to  be  kicked."  But  she  knew  better  than 
to  break  the  pure  alabaster  of  her  throat  with 
strings  of  beads  ;  and  to  have  adorned  herself 
with  the  exaggerated  ornaments  of  the  mode 
would  have  been  to  hang  jewels  upon  a  pure 
marble  statue. 

As  soon  as  her  bed  was  arranged,  Naomi  went 
to  her  little  cell.  There,  seated  by  the  table, 
with  her  head  bent  over  her  arms,  she  gave  her 
self  up  to  reflection  upon  the  melancholy  reality 
of  her  situation.  She  was  alone  ;  was  she  not 
also  friendless  ?  She  had  indeed  no  friend  upon 
whose  aid  she  could  count.  She  felt  no  confi 
dence  in  the  will  or  the  power  of  her  step-father 
22 


338  NAOMI. 

to  stand  by  her  with  his  friendship,  or  to  shield 
her  with  his  protection.  She  was  too  single- 
minded  herself  to  attribute  to  him  selfish  views 
with  regard  to  her  property ;  but  she  was  not 
yet  of  age,  and  of  course,  in  case  of  her  death, 
whatever  was  not  secured  in  England  would  fall 
into  his  hands.  She  knew  well  that  he  had  not 
the  moral  courage  to  defend  her  against  the  tide 
of  public  opinion.  He  was  too  orthodox  a  mem 
ber  of  the  church,  too  stern  a  Puritan,  to  feel  any 
sympathy  for  a  heretic  ;  and  should  she  lose  the 
odor  of  the  true  faith  in  the  nostrils  of  elders 
and  church-members,  she  would  become  as  of 
fensive  as  carrion  to  the  sanctimonious  taste  of 
her  step-father. 

To  the  reader  unacquainted  with  the  history 
and  opinions  of  the  times,  the  idea  that  holding 
a  particular  religious  faith  could  wither  and  blast 
the  whole  character  of  a  young  woman  must 
appear  unintelligible.  But  it  must  be  under 
stood  that  the  ministers,  the  elders,  and  the 
church-members  were  the  fashionable  circle  of 
the  time ;  they  were  the  elite  of  the  whole 
people;  they  formed  the  tribunal  of  public  opin 
ion  ;  to  lose  caste  with  them  was  to  lose  every 
thing  ;  there  was  no  class  of  worldly  people 
to  fall  back  upon  ;  whoever  was  not  a  devout 
church-member,  whoever  was  not  exemplary  at 


NAOMI.  339 

church,  at  church-meetings,  and  at  prayers,  —  to 
use  the  words  of  another,  which  can  be  scarcely 
deemed  profane,  whoever  did  not 

"  Snuff  his  candle  with  a  prayer, 
And  with  a  prayer  wind  up  his  watch, 
And  go  to  prayer  at  striking  of  the  clock," 

was  looked  upon  with  suspicion,  as  losing  favor 
in  the  fashionable  circle,  as  would  be,  at  the  pres 
ent  day,  a  fashionable  belle,  if  suspected  of  at 
tending  the  Methodist  or  the  Millerite  meetings. 
Faith,  although  she  would  have  defended  and 
even  have  given  her  life  for  her  favorite,  had  no 
influence  in  the  circle  that  formed  the  public 
opinion.  Believing  in  her  heart  that  Naomi  was 
as  true  a  believer,  and  nearer  to  the  kingdom  of 
the  angels,  than  many  of  those  who  prayed 
openly  ten  times  a  day,  yet,  if  called  upon  to 
give  her  testimony,  she  could  not  say  that  Naomi 
was  exemplary  in  the  outward  forms  of  piety. 
She  knew  well  that  that  pure  and  humble  heart 
beat  ever  with  the  pulses  of  prayer,  but  she  saw 
no  lengthened  countenance,  and  witnessed  no 
bended  knee.  There  was  another  heart  that 
would  have  poured  out  the  ruddy  tide  that  cir 
cled  round  it  to  save  her  j  but  any  exertion  of 
his  would  have  tended  to  injure  rather  than  to 
aid  her  cause.  The  blossom  of  hope  and  love, 
that  had  just  begun  to  open  its  petals  for  them, 


340  NAOMI. 

must  be  buried  under  the  dry  leaves  of  the  old, 
withered  forests  of  Jewish  and  Hebrew  forms, 
or  crushed  upon  the  sterile  rocks  of  orthodoxy, 
like  those  lovely  little  blossoms  that  open  their 
delicate  beauty  upon  the  granite  of  the  moun 
tain.  Ah  !  she  was  alone,  defenceless,  a  lamb 
among  wolves. 

So  entirely  was  Naomi  overwhelmed  with  the 
desolateness  of  her  position,  that  morning  dawned, 
gray  and  cheerless,  upon  the  bars  of  her  prison- 
window  before  she  lifted  her  head  from  her 
folded  arms ;  then,  shivering,  completely  chilled 
by  the  night,  she  laid  herself,  dressed  as  she  was, 
upon  the  bed,  and  sought  oblivion  from  depress 
ing  thought  in  the  friendly  arms  of  sleep. 

Forlorn  as  Naomi  felt  herself  to  be,  she  was 
even  more  friendless  than  she  herself  knew. 
There  was  a  bitterness  of  public  opinion  against 
her,  of  which  she  was  as  ignorant  as  the  plant 
that  is  blighted  by  the  noxious  vapor  that  cir 
cles  in  the  air  about  its  tender  blossom,  and,  like 
the  delicate  character  of  a  woman,  is  blighted  be 
fore  it  fades.  During  her  absence  on  the  journey 
to  Connecticut,  slanders  had  arisen,  and,  like  the 
snowball,  gathered  strength  and  size  as  they 
rolled  on.  We  must  go  back  to  say  that  the 
mildest  and  most  liberal  of  the  church  had 
passed  away  to  their  reward.  The  state  of  re- 


NAOMI.  341 

ligious  sentiment  had  changed  in  Boston  in  the 
thirty  years  since  the  persecution  of  Mrs.  Hutch- 
inson.  The  earliest  emigrants  recognized  the 
right  of  private  judgment  in  religion ;  and  at  the 
time  of  her  persecution  there  was  found  to  be  a 
party  of  liberal-minded  persons  in  the  church,  so 
that  her  banishment  was  obtained  by  only  one 
vote.  But  the  evil  that  had  arisen  from  this  di 
vision  in  the  church  had  been  so  deep  a  scandal 
to  the  godly,  that  a  reaction  had  taken  place,  and 
the  strictest  rein  of  orthodoxy  had  never  since 
been  relaxed  by  magistrate  or  minister. 

As  none  but  church-members  were  freemen  of 
the  State,  none  but  church-members  could  take 
any  part  in  the  administration  of  the  govern 
ment,  or  hold  even  the  lowest  office ;  and  as 
none  could  be  church-members  but  such  as  the 
ministers  approved,  their  influence  extended  to 
all  the  minutiaB  of  private  life,  —  bore  upon  the 
private  happiness  of  every  individual.  No  bro 
ken-down  victim  of  misfortune  could  hold  the 
office  of  bell-ringer,  no  unlucky  vagrant  could 
enjoy  the  privilege  of  herding  swine,  without  the 
consent  of  the  ministers.  The  ministers  gov 
erned  public  opinion ;  and  orthodoxy,  to  the 
church  and  to  the  ministers  of  the  church,  was 
the  test  of  character.  As  I  said  before,  during 
Naomi's  absence  slanders  had  gathered  against 


342  NAOMI. 

her  sufficient  to  overwhelm  her.  Besides  strong 
suspicions  against  the  orthodoxy  of  her  opinions, 
and  conjectures  about  the  kind  of  heresy  she  en 
tertained,  there  was  enough  in  her  practice  to 
condemn  her.  It  was  whispered  that  she  did 
not  attend  the  morning  prayers  of  her  father's 
family.  It  was  said  that  she  was  rarely  seen  at 
the  Thursday  Lecture ;  that  she  had  been  met 
walking  upon  the  Neck  during  the  hours  of  the 
weekly  Lecture;  they  even  asserted  that  she 
had  been  seen  upon  the  western  side  of  Beacon 
Hill  before  the  disk  of  the  sun  was  below  the 
horizon  on  a  Sunday  evening,  and  also  after  it 
had  entirely  sunk  on  the  evening  preceding  the 
Sabbath.  She  was,  indeed,  a  member  of  the 
church,  but  she  had  given  no  express  manifesta 
tion  by  outward  act  that  she  was  in  a  state  of 
grace  ;  by  a  particular  favor,  the  relation  of  her 
religious  experience  had  been  dispensed  with 
when  she  joined  the  church ;  her  conversation 
—  at  least  with  mere  acquaintances  —  was  never 
upon  religious  subjects ;  and  she  did  not  follow 
with  reverential  humility  the  footsteps  of  the 
ministers,  as  in  Catholic  countries  the  women 
kiss  the  hem  of  the  garments  of  the  priests. 

These  were  the  slanders  that,  in  her  absence, 
had  been  whispered  from  ear  to  ear,  and  carried 
from  house  to  house  ;  so  completely  a  charac- 


NAOMI.  343 

ter  like  Naomi's  could  remain  unrecognized  by 
the  little  circle  around  her  !  Indeed,  unassuming 
and  humble  characters  like  hers  live  unknown 
in  all  societies;  their  beautiful  simplicity  and 
heavenly-mindedness  are  known  only  to  the  eye 
of  Omniscience,  loved  only  by  the  angels,  unless 
some  pure-hearted  saint  like  Faith  is  able  to  pen 
etrate  the  veil  of  humility,  and  stamp  upon  her 
own  heart  "  the  daily  beauty  "  of  such  a  life. 

The  arrest  of  Naomi  was  a  thunderbolt  to  her 
step-father.  His  nervous  and  fretful  anxiety 
lest  he  should  himself  fall  under  the  censure  of 
public  opinion  kept  him  in  a  state  of  perpetual 
restlessness.  His  selfishness  cut  off  all  hope  of 
aid  from  him  ;  he  was  rather,  in  his  own  opin 
ion,  himself  the  object  of  sympathy  and  com 
miseration  ;  his  house  had  been  tainted  with 
heresy,  and  he  went  about  wearing  the  crown 
and  sceptre  of  martyrdom. 

At  the  dawn  of  day,  Faith  was  at  the  prison- 
door.  She  was  early  admitted,  and  bent  over 
Naomi  with  an  encouraging  smile  when  she 
woke  from  that  uneasy  sleep  in  which  we  left 
her.  Naomi  blessed  that  faithful  friend,  in  whom 
there  was  no  change  ;  no  crust  of  bigotry  or 
spiritual  pride  shut  the  honest  heart  from  her 
view ;  and  Faith,  as  she  looked  into  those  clear 
eyes  and  down  into  that  pure  heart,  saw  the 


344  NAOMI. 

same  unconscious  simplicity,  the  same  trans 
parent  truth,  that  could  stoop  neither  to  subter 
fuge  nor  to  mental  reservation. 

The  ministers  wore  grave  and  anxious  faces. 
It  was  one  of  their  own  flock  that  had  gone 
astray;  and  it  was  not  a  time  in  the  church 
when  there  was  more  rejoicing  over  one  that  was 
found  than  over  ninety-and-nine  that  had  never 
gone  astray.  Naomi  was  one  of  their  own 
lambs,  her  step-father  one  of  the  pillars  of  the 
church  ;  but  the  more  painful  the  duty,  the  more 
were  the  hearts  of  many  fixed  to  purge  the 
church  from  the  offence,  even  if  it  were  to  pluck 
out  the  right  eye  and  cast  it  from  them. 

No  words  can  paint  the  agony  of  these  days 
to  Herbert  Walton.  Restless,  unable  to  think 
but  of  her,  breathing  at  every  breath  a  prayer  or 
a  curse  from  his  deepest  heart,  he  wandered  back 
and  forth,  day  and  night,  from  his  home  to  the 
street  where  stood  the  prison,  —  like  the  mother 
bird  around  the  nest  where  lie  all  her  hopes, 
beating  her  restless  wings  to  save  them  from  the 
hawk,  powerless  to  save,  yet  frantic  to  lose,  al 
most  wishing  for  the  worst,  that  the  suspended 
agony  might  crush  at  once  his  uncertainties  and 
fears.  To  vivid,  impatient  natures,  "  suspense  is 
hell."  Herbert  was  stretched  upon  the  rack, 
waiting  for  the  slow  dawn  of  the  winter's  day 


NAOMI.  345 

to  rush  into  Boston,  to  wander  through  the 
streets,  and  fix  his  eyes  upon  the  narrow  win 
dow  of  Naomi's  cell,  and  to  hasten,  as  soon  as 
the  shades  of  the  early  winter  evening  gathered 
over  the  little  town,  to  catch  the  first  ray  of  that 
small  taper  that  was  lighted  within  her  prison. 


CHAPTER    XXYI. 

"  Rich  he  was,  of  holy  thought  and  work, 
He  was  also  a  learned  man,  a  clerk, 
That  Christes  Gospel  truely  would  preach  ; 
His  parishens  devoutly  would  he  teach  ; 
Benign  he  was,  and  wondrous  diligent, 
And  in  adversity  full  patient."  — (CHAUCER. 

THE  evening  was  dark  and  stormy,  —  a  winter 
evening  in  the  month  of  December.  The  day 
had  been  fair,  —  a  Thursday,  the  day  of  the 
market  and  Lecture,  —  and,  as  the  sleighing  was 
good,  —  the  first  steady  sleighing  of  the  season, 
—  the  little  town  of  Boston  had  been  unusually 
animated.  Sleighs  and  sleds  had  been  passing 
through  the  main  street  the  whole  day,  and  un 
til  late  in  the  evening ;  but  it  was  now  seven 
o'clock,  and  quiet  and  order  reigned  throughout 
all  the  crooked  and  intricate  lanes  of  the  little 
town.  The  doors  and  windows  were  closed, 
and  families  gathered  around  to  listen  to  the 
voice  of  prayer. 

At  the  Thursday  Lecture  that  day,  Mr.  Wil 
son  and  Mr.  Norton  had  invited  the  ministers  of 
the  neighbouring  towns  to  remain  all  night,  and 
to  meet  at  the  study  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson,  to 


NAOMI.  347 

discuss  a  matter  of  church  discipline.  Naomi 
was  amenable  to  the  discipline  of  the  church,  as 
was  every  one  who  joined  that  body  ;  and  al 
though  in  her  case  the  recounting  of  religious 
experiences  had  been  dispensed  with,  yet  she  had 
signed  the  church  covenant,  and  thus  submit 
ted  herself  to  "  the  watch  and  ward  "  of  that 
body. 

Let  me  introduce  my  readers  to  a  commodious 
house,  at  the  corner  of  what  is  now  called  Wil 
son's  Lane.  The  house  stood  in  the  midst  of  a 
garden  and  an  orchard,  and  was  flanked  on  either 
side  by  commodious  barns  and  out-houses.  The 
snow  lay  heavy  upon  the  branches  of  the  apple 
and  plum  trees,  and,  although  it  was  well  worn 
in  the  adjoining  market-place  by  country  sleds,  it 
lay  in  all  its  virgin  whiteness  in  the  orchard  and 
garden  ;  the  stumps  of  the  last  year's  corn,  not 
yet  removed,  just  appearing  above  its  sparkling 
surface. 

In  a  back  room  of  this  house,  —  the  study  of 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson,  —  the  ministers  and  elders 
were  about  assembling.  Two  small  candles 
cast  little  light  upon  their  anxious  faces;  but 
the  chimney,  built  when  the  forests  were  all 
standing,  was  now  heaped  with  glowing  logs, 
and  diffused  that  flickering  and  uncertain  fire 
light,  now  rising  into  brilliancy,  and  now  sink- 


348  NAOMI. 

ing  into  shadow,  which,  thrown  upon  the  human 
countenance,  makes  it  an  enigma  to  read.  The 
broad  brick  hearth,  polished  with  use,  was  of  a 
glowing  red,  and  was  covered  thickly  with  the 
white  floating  ashes  of  the  hickory  logs.  Two 
enormous  andirons,  with  the  heads  and  feet  of  gro 
tesque  animals,  supported  these  logs.  An  oaken 
cabinet,  curiously  carved  in  coarse  workmanship, 
stood  on  one  side  of  the  room.  Upon  its  front 
were  carved  Adam  and  Eve  in  Paradise,  with  the 
serpent  presenting  an  apple  to  Eve,  so  much  larger 
than  her  own  head,  that  it  would  almost  seem  to 
suggest  the  idea  that  it  would  serve  for  all  her 
posterity,  and  thus  transmit  the  transgression. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  room  was  arranged  upon 
shelves  the  library  of  the  reverend  divine ;  great 
folios  of  divinity,  ponderous  volumes  of  the  fa 
thers  of  the  church,  and  the  heathen  classics, 
in  white  parchment  bindings,  stood  side  by  side. 
The  venerable  authors  of  some  of  the  books 
of  divinity,  such  as  Owen  and  Baxter,  hung  in 
richly-wrought  ebony  frames  against  the  wall. 
Two  other  engravings  were  also  suspended  upon 
opposite  walls.  The  coarse  and  hardy  portrait 
of  Oliver  Cromwell  frowned  opposite  to  the  sad 
and  melancholy  representation  of  him  who  was 
afterwards  called  the  Martyr.  There  were  very 
few  modem  books ;  I  mean  books  of  that  age, 


NAOMI.  349 

now  ancient  to  us.  It  was  a  rare  and  priceless 
treasure  when  a  vessel  from  the  mother  country 
brought  out  a  thin  quarto,  or  a  pamphlet,  just 
from  the  press.  Such  a  treasure  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Wilson  had  lately  received ;  a  thin  quarto  lay 
open  upon  the  table,  —  "  Poems  by  John  Mil 
ton."  This  volume  contained  The  Mask  of 
Comus,  L'  Allegro,  and  II  Penseroso,  and  some 
Latin  poems.*  Mr.  Wilson  was  a  poet  himself  ; 
the  book  had  completely  enchanted  him,  but  he 
had  laid  it  aside  when  his  brethren  began  to  as 
semble,  as  a  trifling  study,  irrelevant  to  the  cause 
of  their  coming  together. 

As  the  black-cassocked  gentlemen  dropped  in, 
the  slight  scraping  of  feet  upon  the  white,  sanded 
floor  was  audible.  The  chairs  were  all  filled, 
and  one  of  the  brethren  approached  the  table, 
and  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  new  quarto. 
"  See,"  said  he,  with  a  slight  smile,  to  another, 
"  with  what  studies  our  spiritual  father  amuses 
his  precious  hours." 

The  other  looked  at  the  title-page.  "  The 
most  delightful  book,"  he  said,  "  that  the  centu 
ry  has  produced.  I  have  read  it.  The  poems 
are  by  the  late  secretary  of  Cromwell." 

"  And   now  a  poor,  blind  schoolmaster,"  said 

*  Paradise  Lost  had  not  yet  been  written. 


350  NAOMI. 

the  other,  "  saved  from  the  scaffold  by  the  act  of 
oblivion  of  our  blessed  king." 

A  slight  smile  and  shrug  passed  round  the 
room. 

"  The  renowned  Latin  secretary  of  Oliver 
Cromwell,"  said  Mr.  Wilson.  "  But  I  venture  to 
predict  that  he  will  not  be  remembered  in  future 
ages  for  that  distinction,  but  as  the  most  re 
nowned  poet  in  the  English  tongue." 

"  There  is  another  poet,"  said  a  young  man 
present,  "  that  I  love  better  than  the  stern 
Roundhead.  He,  too,  was  imprisoned  for  his 
loyalty.  In  old  Westminster  he  composed  some 
of  his  sweetest  poems."  And  the  young  man 
repeated,  — 

"  Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage  ; 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 
That  for  a  hermitage. 

"  If  I  have  freedom  in  my  love, 

And  in  my  soul  am  free, 
Angels  alone,  that  soar  above, 
Enjoy  such  liberty." 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  can  you  match  in  simpli 
city  and  beauty  such  lines  as  these  ?  " 

Mr.  Wilson  said  that  these  were  lines  simply 
beautiful ;  but  that  in  Milton  there  were  lines 
full  of  deep  thought,  and  of  a  sublimity  of  ex 
pression  that  could  not  be  surpassed  in  Homer. 


NAOMI.  351 

The  other  said,  Homer  was  the  poet  of  all 
ages,  while  Milton  was  only  a  Puritan,  a  secta 
rian,  and  a  bitter  enemy,  he  acknowledged,  to 
all  tyranny. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Wilson,  « John  Milton,  as 
you  will  see,  will  be  the  poet  of  all  ages  and  of 
all  nations." 

"  We  shall  hardly  live  to  see  it,"  said  the  oth 
er,  laughing. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Wilson  j  "  but  we  shall  see 
him  take  his  place  with  the  greatest  of  poets." 

Mr.  Wilson's  prophecy  was  not  fulfilled  so 
soon  as  he  expected  j  but,  considering  that  the 
Paradise  Lost  was  not  then  published,  the  proph 
ecy  itself  may  be  considered  remarkable. 

All  had  now  arrived  who  were  expected. 
They  had  met  for  consultation  upon  a  point  of 
church  authority  and  discipline,  and  to  seek  the 
Divine  aid  in  prayer.  It  was  evident,  from  the 
anxiety  and  gravity  of  their  countenances,  that  a 
weight  of  responsibility  rested  upon  their  minds. 
The  question  before  them  was,  whether  Nao 
mi,  being  one  of  the  church,  subject  to  watch 
and  ward  from  them,  should  be  withdrawn  from 
the  civil  authority,  and  subjected  to  examination 
and  censure  of  the  church  (for  the  ministers 
never  doubted  their  power  to  withdraw  her),  or 
be  suffered  to  take  her  trial  with  the  others,  and 


352  NAOMI. 

afterwards  subjected  to  the  church  examination 
and  censure. 

Wilson,  being  the  oldest  among  them,  was 
expected  to  lead  their  deliberations.  The  ven 
erable  old  man  was  now  for  the  most  lenient 
measures.  The  loss  of  his  children  and  his  love 
ly  grandchildren  had  deeply  touched  and  softened 
his  heart.  His  opinion  was  decidedly  that  she 
should  be  withdrawn  from  the  civil  prosecution, 
and  be  let  off  with  a  spiritual,  but  not  too  severe, 
admonition  from  the  church.  The  old  man  was 
almost  alone  in  this  advice.  Many  were  for  the 
severest  proceedings.  They  pleaded  that  there 
were  great  backslidings  in  the  church.  God 
would  soon  enter  into  judgment  with  them  on 
account  of  their  degeneracy  from  the  piety  of 
their  fathers.  The  magistrates  had  lately  issued 
a  letter  to  all  the  churches  in  the  land,  calling 
upon  them  for  a  more  intense  devotion,  a  return 
to  their  first  love,  —  to  repent  of  their  coldness 
and  lukewarmness  ;  and,  under  the  circumstan 
ces,  the  case  of  Naomi  seemed  to  be  thrown  ex 
actly  before  them,  to  try  and  prove  their  sincer 
ity.  Here  was  a  young  woman  belonging  to 
one  of  the  first  families  in  the  colony,  rich,  and 
supposed  to  possess  many  powerful  friends.  Now 
it  was  urged  that  there  should  be  no  respect  of 
persons ;  a  stem  regard  to  duty  should  be  with 


NAOMI.  353 

the  church  paramount  to  all  claims  of  friendship 
or  family.  They  should  hate  father  and  mother, 
brother  and  sister,  lover  and  friend,  for  the  cause 
of  God  and  the  church. 

John  Norton  here  interposed,  with  his  deep 
voice  and  stern  expression.  It  was  not  worth 
while,  he  said,  to  be  hypocrites,  and  to  give 
themselves  credit  for  a  zeal  for  the  church  which 
they  did  not  possess.  For  his  part,  he  thought 
John  Aldersey's  step-daughter,  meek  as  she 
seemed,  held  dangerous  opinions,  and  had  wit 
enough  to  conceal  them.  He  had  thought  so 
from  the  very  first  day  he  saw  her.  She  was 
likely  to  give  them  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  and 
therefore  he  was  for  the  severest  measures  of  the 
civil  court.  Let  her  be  banished,  he  said,  and 
that  as  soon  as  possible,  lest  they  should  one  day 
be  tempted  to  hang  her  for  her  wit,  as  they  did 
Mrs.  Hibbins. 

This  remark  of  Norton's  seemed  to  change 
the  character  of  the  discussion.  Every  one  had 
some  story  to  tell,  or  some  remark  to  repeat  that 
had  been  attributed  to  Naomi,  and  all  of  a  nature 
to  disparage  the  ministers  and  the  New  England 
church.  They  were  all  of  them  false,  or  greatly 
exaggerated  ;  they  were  the  gossip  of  the  day,  — 
words  put  into  Naomi's  mouth  that  her  tongue 
had  never  uttered ;  but  they  served  to  remove 
23 


354  NAOMI. 

her  from  the  sympathies  of  the  kindest  hearts 
there,  and  to  obtain  a  unanimous  vote  afterwards 
that  the  ministers  should  make  no  effort  to  shel 
ter  her  from  the  severity  of  the  civil  tribunal, 
but  let  justice  take  its  course. 

One  or  two  of  the  younger  brethren  now  ven 
tured  to  raise  their  voices.  They  were  young 
men,  and  they  had  been  touched  by  the  meek 
ness  and  beauty  of  Naomi's  appearance.  Could 
there  not  be  a  remonstrance  presented  to  the 
magistrates  against  any  severe  or  brutal  meas 
ures  in  the  case  of  Naomi?  they  asked.  The 
country,  they  said,  would  bear  no  more  scourg- 
ings,  or  brandings  with  a  hot  iron.  Beside, 
what  had  she  in  fact  done  ?  She  had  performed 
an  act  of  humanity,  from  a  motive  of  gratitude  ; 
and  could  they  punish  that  without  disgracing 
themselves  ? 

This  was  not  the  question,  said  Mr.  Norton  ; 
it  was  her  opinions,  not  her  acts,  that  they  had 
to  do  with.  He  would  gladly,  if  it  were  possi 
ble,  separate  the  one  from  the  other,  —  commend 
her  humanity  and  curse  her  heresy.  He  would 
have  burned  the  one,  and  cherished  the  other. 

Like  Isabella,  when  she  sanctioned  the  Inquisi 
tion,  and  Paul,  when  he  slew  and  imprisoned  the 
first  Christians,  the  ministers  verily  thought  they 
were  doing  God  service. 


NAOMI.  355 

Just  as  they  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
leniency  must  be  dispensed  with  in  the  case 
of  Naomi,  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and 
one  of  their  clerical  brethren,  a  young  man  well 
known  to  them,  entered.  He  had  that  mo 
ment  arrived  from  Connecticut.  He  was  a  gen 
tleman  of  about  thirty,  and  had  seen  Naomi 
several  times  on  her  late  visit  to  New  Haven, 
and  after  she  left  had  felt  a  void  in  his  life,  a 
restlessness  and  uncertainty  of  purpose,  that  im 
pelled  him  to  follow  her,  and,  if  possible,  regain  his 
quietude  and  peace  of  mind  in  her  society.  His 
appearance  indicated  the  utmost  asceticism  of  life  ; 
he  was  emaciated,  but  with  an  intellectual  coun 
tenance,  with  piercing  black  eyes  that  seemed 
kindled  to  a  burning  coal  beneath  his  thick,  over 
hanging  eyebrows.  The  natural  paleness  of  his 
complexion  was  deepened  by  the  communication 
he  was  about  to  make.  As  he  passed  up  from 
the  North  End,  where  his  friends  dwelt,  to  the 
house  of  Mr.  Wilson,  his  thoughts  so  centred 
in  his  own  emotions  that  he  scarcely  lifted  his 
eyes  from  the  ground,  he  was  startled  by  an  in 
stantaneous  and  vivid  light.  The  sun  had  been 
long  beneath  the  horizon,  and,  as  he  lifted  his 
eyes  towards  the  western  sky,  he  saw  a  porten 
tous  meteor,  a  supernatural  appearance,  —  a  spear 
of  a  deep  red  color,  the  color  of  blood,  the  point 


356  NAOMI. 

turned  downwards  towards  the  land.  It  paused 
for  a  few  moments,  and  seemed  shaken  as  by 
some  invisible  hand,  and  then  sunk  slowly  be 
neath  the  horizon. 

This  wonderful  phenomenon  turned  the  atten 
tion  of  the  ministers  from  Naomi  to  other  por 
tentous  appearances,  and  every  one  had  some 
miracle  more  appalling  than  the  other  to  relate. 
During  these  relations  every  pale  face  became  a 
shade  paler,  in  the  dim  light  of  the  apartment. 
Prayer  was  instantly  offered,  while  they  trem 
bled  with  dread  of  God's  wrath.  The  peculiar 
views  which  our  fathers  entertained  of  the  invis 
ible  world,  their  gloomy  belief  in  the  agency  of 
evil  spirits,  their  literal  interpretation  of  the 
Scriptures,  that  the  Devil  actually  went  "  roam 
ing  about,  seeking  whom  he  could  devour," 
joined  with  the  ignorance  of  the  age  of  the 
great  laws  of  the  physical  universe,  all  con 
spired  to  throw  a  veil  of  mystery  over  the  most 
simple  appearances  of  nature,  and  to  agitate  the 
whole  community  with  the  report  of  signs  and 
wonders  and  dark  portents  of  calamity.  May  it 
not  be  mentioned  as  an  excuse  for  our  fathers,  — 
at  least  a  palliation  of  the  wrong,  —  that,  in  their 
persecution  of  the  Quakers,  they  looked  upon 
these  appearances  of  nature,  and  upon  the  indi 
cations  of  the  invisible  world  that  ever  surround 


NAOMI.  357 

us,  and  wrap  us,  as  it  were,  in  a  garment  of  mys 
tery,  with  timid  and  terror-stricken  minds,  and 
believed  that  God  demanded  of  them  by  these 
signs  the  destruction  of  his  enemies  ? 

The  thoughts,  as  I  have  said  before,  of  the  as 
sembled  ministers  were  turned  from  the  immedi 
ate  object  of  their  meeting  to  these  terrible  signs 
and  wonders  in  the  heavens,  and  such  an  accu 
mulation  of  evidence  for  their  truth  was  related, 
that  the  most  faithless  among  them,  the  very 
Thomases  of  the  company,  believed  and  trembled 
at  the  approach  of  the  end  of  the  world.  The 
day,  they  verily  believed,  was  near,  when  the 
heavens  would  shrivel  up  like  a  scroll,  and  the 
earth  be  melted  with  fervent  heat.  Before  they 
resumed  the  subject  of  their  meeting,  they  re 
solved  to  recommend  to  all  the  churches  a  day 
of  public  fasting  and  prayer. 

After  this  they  informed  their  newly  arrived 
brother  of  the  subject  of  their  present  confer 
ence.  At  the  mention  of  Naomi's  imprisonment 
and  the  heavy  suspicions  she  lay  under,  his  pale 
countenance  flushed  to  the  deepest  crimson,  and, 
as  that  passed  away,  there  was  left  an  ashy  pale 
ness.  For  a  few  moments  his  emotion  prevent 
ed  him  from  replying.  At  last  he  said,  —  "  This 
is  a  case  beset  with  so  many  perplexities,  envi 
roned  with  difficulties  so  likely  in  either  result 


358  NAOMI. 

to  present  fearful  consequences,  that  I  do  not 
mistake,  brethren,  I  believe,  in  supposing  that 
you  would  gladly  have  it  entirely  withdrawn 
from  your  decision.7'  He  looked  round  to  see 
if  any  one  had  penetrated  his  meaning.  There 
was  a  slight  smile  upon  the  countenances  of  one 
or  two  of  the  younger  ministers ;  but  with  those 
who  had  forgotten  their  youthful  days  and  feel 
ings,  there  was  no  rose-colored  dawn  upon  their 
minds  to  intimate  that  their  young  brother  had 
traversed  the  frozen,  icy  region  between  Con 
necticut  River  and  the  Bay  upon  the  wings  of  a 
power  so  warm  at  his  heart  that  he  felt  no  out 
ward  cold. 

It  was  difficult  for  him  to  proceed.  He  there 
fore  merely  asked  permission  to  be  admitted  to 
see  Miss  Worthington  in  her  prison,  as  he  was 
the  bearer  of  a  letter  and  messages  from  New 
Haven. 

"  To-morrow  he  should  be  introduced  to  the 
prisoner." 

"  This  evening,"  he  said,  — and  his  pale  cheek 
burned  with  a  deep  spot  of  red,  and  his  lips 
trembled,  — "  this  very  evening  it  was  indis 
pensable  that  he  should  deliver  his  message  ;  for, 
possibly,  he  might  set  out  on  his  return  to-mor 
row  morning." 

A  magistrate  present  wrote  an  order  for  his 


NAOMI.  359 

admittance  to  the  prison.  He  received  it  in  his 
trembling  hand,  and  even  in  that  formal  and 
courteous  age,  scarcely  a  slight  bow  intimated 
his  retreat  from  the  apartment. 

His  transit  across  the  frozen  streets  between 
Mr.  Wilson's  and  the  jail  was  so  rapid,  that 
when  he  reached  the  prison  he  was  so  complete 
ly  out  of  breath  that  he  paused  to  recover  his 
strength,  as  well  as  to  collect  his  thoughts,  be 
fore  he  knocked.  It  is,  I  believe,  a  well-known 
fact,  that  when  the  feelings  of  the  ascetic  and 
self-denying  are  aroused,  when  formal  and  com 
pelled  restraint  is  thrown  off,  they  are  more 
keen  and  impetuous  in  the  pursuit  of  their  ob 
jects,  their  desires  are  kindled  to  an  intenser 
flame,  than  with  those  whose  passions  have  been 
kept  even  by  a  moderation  in  indulgence,  and  a 
temperate  use  of  the  blessings  which  God  per 
mits  to  all  his  children. 

The  knock  upon  the  prison  door  was  several 
times  repeated  before  the  jailer  appeared,  and 
when  he  did  appear  he  gruffly  refused  him  en 
trance  at  that  hour  of  the  evening.  Mr.  Burton 
presented  his  order.  The  jailer  still  denied  that 
it  was  for  immediate  admittance.  It  was  past 
eight  o'clock,  and  his  prisoner  had  probably  re 
tired  for  the  night.  Mr.  Burton  produced  the 
small  sum  of  money  his  purse  contained.  The 


360  NAOMI. 

jailer  repelled  it  indignantly,  —  a  Boston  Puritan 
jailer  accept  a  bribe !  —  and  still  he  held  the 
door  in  his  face.  The  poor  pleader  at  the  door 
had  no  other  resource  than  to  return  to  the  house 
of  Mr.  Wilson  for  a  more  explicit  order. 

Upon  his  return,  his  slower  steps  recalled  him 
to  a  sense  of  the  rashness  of  his  proceedings. 
How  could  he  expect  to  storm  the  prison  and 
carry  off  the  lady,  whether  she  would  or  not ! 
As  he  reflected,  he  found  his  real  object  was  to 
save  Naomi ;  to  rescue  her  from  a  formal  trial, 
and  to  leave  the  rest  to  the  future.  He  found 
that,  without  the  aid  and  concurrence  of  some 
other,  even  should  Naomi  consent,  he  had  no 
means  of  taking  her  away,  for  the  temper  of  the 
jailer  forbade  him  to  hope  for  any  aid  from  him. 
When  he  reached  Mr.  Wilson's  door,  he  found 
the  ministers  had  broken  up  their  conference,  and 
were  wrapping  themselves  warm  previously  to 
their  departure.  The  reverend  gentleman  was 
left  alone  in  his  solitary  house,  and  was  just  re 
tiring  to  his  still  more  solitary  bedroom.  A  hint 
had  been  given  the  lonely  widower  of  the  real 
cause  of  the  impetuosity  and  agitation  of  his 
young  brother,  and,  feeling  himself  so  doubly  be 
reaved  by  the  loss  of  all  domestic  ties,  he  was  pre 
pared  to  sympathize  with  him,  and,  opening  again 
the  glowing  logs  on  the  hearth  of  his  study,  he  sat 


NAOMI.  361 

down  to  listen.  The  young  enthusiast  entreated 
him  to  think  of  the  odium  that  would  be  thrown 
upon  the  ministers  if  they  impelled  the  court  to 
severe  measures.  The  people  were  becoming 
weary  of  persecution,  and,  in  the  case  of  Naomi, 
in  her  youth  and  sex  "  there  was  a  speechless 
dialect  that  moved  them  to  compassion." 

Mr.  Wilson  said,  that,  on  the  contrary,  public 
opinion  was  never  so  bitter  as  now  against  the 
cursed  sect  of  Quakers ;  witness  the  crowded 
prisons,  and  the  eagerness  to  seize  every  one 
aiding  and  abetting  them, — the  whippings,  the 
scourgings,  and,  only  last  June,  the  scaffold  and 
the  halter.  In  his  own  heart  there  was  a  still, 
small  voice  pleading  for  Naomi ;  he  thought,  too, 
that  many  of  his  brethren  would  willingly  wash 
their  hands  of  the  whole  transaction,  although 
others  believed  it  was  sent  by  Providence  just  at 
this  moment,  thrown  exactly  in  their  way,  to  try 
their  hearts  and  to  prove  their  zeal. 

Conceding  so  much,  the  other,  like  a  drown 
ing  man,  caught  at  the  straw.  How  easy  it 
would  be,  he  said,  for  him  alone,  with  only  the 
connivance  of  the  jailer,  —  such  connivance  as 
was  used  in  the  case  of  Mary  Dyer,  when  she 

escaped  the  first  time and  that  very  night 

Naomi  might  be  free,  released  secretly  from  the 
prison,  and He  paused. 


362  NAOMI. 

The  aged  widower  could  only  smile  at  the 
confidence  of  youth  and  passion  ;  the  smile  was 
followed  by  a  sigh ;  he  remembered  his  own 
youth,  and  how  hard  it  had  been,  and  how  often 
he  had  pleaded  in  vain,  even  to  his  wedded  wife, 
to  accompany  him  in  all  peace  and  security 
across  the  Atlantic.  He  was  touched  by  the 
pleading,  and  moved  by  the  confident  assurance 
of  success  of  his  young  brother,  and  promised 
the  very  next  day  to  collect  the  opinions  of  his 
brethren.  If  they  were  in  favor  of  conniving  at 
the  escape  of  Naomi,  and  thus  cutting  the  knot 
of  doubt,  he  would  aid  and  abet  his  young 
friend  in  his  private  plan  of  being  the  chosen 
instrument ;  but  —  and  Mr.  Wilson  hinted  a 
doubt  that  Naomi  herself  might  object  to  that 
mode  of  release  ;  and  while  he  was  drawing  on 
his  overcoat  and  tying  his  moccasons,  he  asked, 
—  "  Do  you  really  expect  a  reward  for  this  chiv 
alrous  knight-errantry,  or  is  it  all  a  pure,  disin 
terested  service  ? " 

Mr.  Burton  answered  with  the  proverb,  — 
"  Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Wilson ;  "  but  I  will  give 
you  another  proverb,  in  answer  to  yours,  not  so 
delicate,  perhaps :  —  'It  is  easy  to  lead  a  horse  to 
water,  but  the  whole  universe  cannot  make  him 
drink.'  " 


NAOMI.  363 

Mr.  Burton  smiled  a  sort  of  incredulous  smile, 
and  the  reverend  old  gentleman  thought  within 
himself,  —  "  Would  to  heaven  that  she  could  be 
induced  to  accept  marriage  instead  of  martyr 
dom,  a  husband  instead  of  a  halter !  A  weight 
of  a  thousand  fears  would  be  lifted  from  my 
heart."  And  he  hastened  with  the  alacrity  of 
youth  across  the  frozen  streets  to  the  prison 
door,  where  he  instantly  obtained  admittance  for 
his  young  clerical  brother. 

It  must  be  recollected,  such  was  the  influ 
ence  of  the  ministers  and  the  elders  of  the 
church,  that  they  doubted  not  their  power  to 
withdraw  Naomi  from  the  civil  tribunal ;  and  as 
every  member  of  the  court  was  also  a  member 
of  the  church,  it  would  only  have  been  entering 
a  refusal  to  prosecute  the  case  farther. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

"  Sees  distant  plains  of  Eden  gleam, 
And  does  not  dream  it  is  a  dream." 

NAOMI  sat  in  her  solitary  prison  ;  by  the  neg 
lect  of  the  jailer's  wife,  no  light  had  been  brought 
to  her  room..  The  strongest  and  most  hopeful 
spirits  are  subdued  by  long-continued  solitude. 
Was  it  strange  that  the  thought  was  forced  upon 
her  that  she  might  be  of  little  value,  even  for 
gotten,  in  the  circle  that  she  had  indeed  blessed 
by  her  presence  ?  By  degrees  the  pinings  of  a 
sad  and  doubtful  spirit  were  added  to  the  utter 
loneliness  of  her  heart.  She  was  suffering  under 
the  most  depressing  of  all  anxieties,  doubt, — 
doubt  whether,  in  the  sacrifices  she  had  made, 
the  spirit  that  had  influenced  her  had  been  the 
spirit  of  truth.  "  Was  it  not  a  lying  spirit,"  she 
asked  herself,  "  that  bade  me  sacrifice  myself, 
that  now  bids  me  suffer  for  the  truth  ?  Is  my 
truth  better  than  another's?  Could  I  not  have 
dwelt  within  myself,  and  outwardly  have  been 
theirs  ?  "  This  was  not  a  question  implying  hy 
pocrisy,  for  every  reflecting  person  leads  a  double 
life,  an  inner  and  an  outward  existence.  This 


NAOMI.  365 

inner  life  that  is  hidden  within  the  soul,  the  true 
"  life  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man,"  — it  is  the  se 
cret  fountain  in  whose  fulness  the  soul  dwells, 
and  which  feeds  the  aspiration  that  bids  us  reach 
the  true  and  the  beautiful,  —  that  feeds,  but  can 
not  allay,  our  thirst  for  the  holy  and  the  perfect. 
"  Here,"  thought  Naomi,  "  I  might  have  dwelt, 
with  food  that  the  world  knew  not  of,  and  out 
wardly  have  conformed  to  the  requirements  of 
the  church." 

She  sat  leaning  with  crossed  arms  upon  the 
oaken  table,  and  her  hair,  which  had  fallen  from 
the  ribbon  that  confined  its  folds,  concealed  her 
face.  She  soon  felt  the  sophistry  by  which  she 
had  tried  to  lay  a  flattering  unction  to  her  soul, 
and,  shaking  off  the  despondency  of  the  mo 
ment,  she  was  about  to  rise  and  call  for  her 
light. 

At  this  instant  a  taper  shone  into  the  room, 
and  the  well-known  paternal  voice  of  Mr.  Wil 
son  pronounced  her  name.  She  started  at  the 
sound,  rose,  and,  as  her  eye  fell  upon  the  gentle 
man  from  New  Haven,  an  expression  of  surprise 
was  succeeded  by  one  of  pain  and  sorrow  that 
passed  over  her  countenance ;  but,  recovering 
from  her  surprise,  she  greeted  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wil 
son  with  humility,  and  held  out  her  hand  to  Mr. 
Burotn.  Mr.  Wilson  said  he  had  not  come  him- 


366  NAOMI. 

self  with  spiritual  instruction  nor  admonition, 
but  to  introduce  one  who  doubtless  came  rich  in 
spiritual  gifts  suited  to  Naomi's  afflicted  state, 
and  ready  to  open  to  her  all  the  treasures  of  di 
vine  truth,  and  to  prepare  her  mind  by  devout 
supplication  for  the  trial  that  awaited  her.  He 
would  therefore  take  leave,  giving  her  only  his 
blessing. 

Naomi  cast  a  beseeching  look  at  her  pastor, 
entreating  him  to  remain ;  but  he  heeded  her 
not,  and  left  the  narrow  apartment,  —  now,  in 
deed,  far  too  narrow  to  the  forlorn  Naomi. 

The  suitor  from  Connecticut  was  made  up  of 
the  stiffest,  sternest  elements  of  orthodoxy,  to 
which  he  had  added  the  asceticism  of  a  solitary 
and  studious  life.  He  certainly  had  perceptions 
of  beauty  and  loveliness  to  be  touched  so  deeply 
by  Naomi  as  to  bring  him  over  the  icy  hills,  in 
the  severities  of  winter,  in  order  to  secure  her  to 
himself.  But,  as  I  have  said  before,  he  felt  an 
intolerable  restlessness  after  she  had  departed  ; 
his  studies  ceased  to  interest  him  ;  his  books  ap 
peared  to  him  to  be  in  an  unknown  tongue ;  in 
deed,  every  language  was  now  dead  to  him  but 
the  language  of  love. 

Naomi  had  perceived  that  he  hovered  around 
her  in  New  Haven,  but  she  scarcely  thought  she 
had  made  an  impression  that  would  last  upon 


NAOMI.  367 

one  so  immersed  in  spiritual  and  metaphysical 
existence.  She  knew  not  the  intensity  of  feel 
ing,  which,  when  the  passions  are  aroused,  takes 
possession  of  the  unnaturally  self-denying  and 
ascetic,  overthrowing  the  reason  and  leading  to 
all  the  delusions  of  insanity.  The  moment  Na 
omi  cast  her  eyes  upon  him,  she  perceived  the 
object  of  his  visit,  and  she  felt  a  cold  shiver  run 
through  her  frame. 

The  natural  feelings  of  man  are  ever  at  war 
with  the  Calvinistic  theology.  In  this  case,  im 
pelled  by  the  impetuosity  of  his  feelings,  Mr. 
Burton  would  have  loved  Naomi,  if  she  had  been 
that  impossibility  to  conceive  of  in  woman,  an 
unbeliever.  There  was  a  pause  when  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Wilson  shut  the  door.  Mr.  Burton  seemed 
unable  to  introduce  the  object  of  his  visit ;  but, 
true  to  his  sect,  he  broke  the  silence  by  a  ques 
tion  which  to  another  would  have  appeared  very 
foreign  to  what  filled  his  soul  and  pressed  upon 
his  lips,  but  in  his  mind  had  a  close  connection 
with  it ;  he  asked  Naomi  if  she  had  ever  expe 
rienced  religion ;  in  other  words,  if  she  had  been 
converted. 

Depressed  and  annoyed  as  Naomi  felt,  she 
could  not  restrain  a  smile  j  but  she  replied,  — 
"  As  you  are  neither  my  pastor  nor  spiritual  ad 
viser,  I  can  scarcely  think  what  right  you  have 
to  ask  such  a  question." 


368  NAOMI. 

Mr.  Burton  went  on  to  tell  her  that  to  him 
it  was  the  most  momentous  of  all  questions,  as 
it  was  the  turning-point  with  him,  it  being  im 
possible  for  him  to  think  of  connecting  himself 
with  one  to  whose  heart  religion  was  a  stranger, 
however  amiable  and  lovely  in  natural  gifts. 
Meek  as  Naomi  was,  this  manner  of  addressing 
her  appeared  so  ridiculously  presumptuous,  that, 
without  even  deigning  to  look  at  her  suitor, 
she  answered,  that  by  no  possibility,  whether 
converted  or  not  converted,  could  such  a  circum 
stance  occur  as  his  connection  with  her  ;  and  she 
rose,  as  though  she  desired  he  would  take  his 
leave. 

Not  a  conception  of  the  awkwardness  of  his 
proceeding  had  dawned  upon  the  mind  of  Mr. 
Burton  ;  but  he  saw,  by  the  cold  and  repelling 
expression  of  Naomi's  countenance,  that  he  was 
not  making  immediate  progress  towards  his  object, 
and  he  instantly  threw  off  the  sectarian  and  the 
Calvinist,  and,  like  a  man,  came  to  the  point. 
"  I  am  come,"  he  said,  "  to  save  you.  Your  life 
is  in  danger.  There  is  but  one  way.  No  one 
here  can  interfere  to  save  you  without  placing 
his  own  life  in  jeopardy.  I  am  a  stranger,  not 
amenable  to  these  laws,  and  I  have  the  means 
and  the  power,  would  you  but  give  me  the  right. 
A  sloop  is  in  the  stream,  waiting  only  for  a  wind 


NAOMI.  369 

to  sail  for  New  York  and  New  Haven.  This 
very  night  I  can  place  you  in  safety  on  board 
that  vessel." 

He  paused ;  but  he  saw  no  relenting  in  Nao 
mi's  calm,  cold  expression. 

"  Are  you  aware,"  he  continued,  "  that  here 
you  meet  certain  death  ?  I  have  been  convers 
ing  with  your  enemies,  and  there  is  no  relent 
ing  in  their  determination  to  proceed  against  you 
with  the  utmost  rigor  of  the  law,  expressly  made 
for  those  who  aid  and  abet  the  Quakers." 

Naomi  said  she  was  not  conscious  of  having 
any  enemies  in  Boston;  besides,  he  was  trying 
to  frighten  her ;  for  the  punishment  of  death  had 
only  been  inflicted  upon  those  who  were  them 
selves  Quakers,  never  for  aiding  and  comforting 
them. 

"  Ah !  but  a  scourging  and  a  boring  of  the 
tongue,"  he  said,  "are  little  short  of  death." 

Naomi  shuddered.  She  thought  within  her 
self  she  would  much  rather  encounter  the  latter 
than  endure  the  former. 

"  This  very  night,"  continued  her  suitor,  "you 
will  be  in  safety.  With  the  morning  breeze  — 
for  the  western  sky  promises  a  fair  day  —  we 
should  be  far  on  our  way,  even  before  the  jailer 
opens  his  eyes." 

Naomi  had  stood,  unable  to  speak,  as  much 
24 


370 


NAOMI. 


from  surprise  as  from  the  rapidity  and  stream  of  his 
eloquence  ;  but  at  these  last  words,  thus  identify 
ing  themselves  and  their  fortunes  as  though  they 
were  already  one,  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his 
arm,  and  compelled  him  to  pause.  He  looked  at 
her  then,  and  the  cold  and  unmoved  expression 
of  her  features  checked  him  at  once,  and  seemed 
to  lay  an  icy  hand  upon  his  heart. 

"I  will  not  pretend  to  misunderstand  you," 
she  said.  "  I  doubt  not  your  ability  to  rescue 
me  from  this  great  danger,  in  which  my  life 
stands  perilled,  and  I  thank  you  with  the  deepest 
gratitude  of  my  heart  ;  but  even  if  the  door  of 
my  prison  stood  open,  and,  instead  of  mystery, 
and  darkness,  and  night,  the  path  before  me  lay 
in  the  light  of  day  and  led  to  my  father's  house, 
I  could  not  walk  it  hand  in  hand  with  you.  I 
thank  you  from  my  deepest  soul,  and  shall  ever 
pray  for  you."  She  turned  away,  and  sat  down 
at  the  most  distant  part  of  the  room. 

Mr.  Burton  would  not  be  thus  repelled.  Adopt 
ing  Naomi's  calmness  and  cold  tone,  —  "  Let  me 
only  reprieve  you,  —  deliver  you  from  this  pris- 
"on,"  he  said,  "and  I  will  leave  the  future  to 
your  generosity.  I  will  leave  you  free ;  you 
shall  be  restrained  by  no  implied  concession,  — 
bound  by  no  sense  of  obligation.  In  trusting 
yourself  to  me,  I  will  merely  place  you  in 
safety." 


NAOMI.  371 

Naomi  was  touched  by  this  generosity  ;  the 
tears  started  from  her  eyes.  Her  lover  caught 
at  the  softened  expression  of  her  countenance  ; 
hope  sprang  up  when  he  saw  her  tears,  and  he 
fell  upon  his  knees.  Yes,  the  stern  ascetic  — 
he  who  hitherto  had  "  scarce  confessed  that  his 
blood  flowed,  or  that  his  appetite  was  more  for 
bread  than  stone,"  who  had  never  knelt  but  to 
God,  and  that  in  the  deepest  privacy  of  his 
closet  —  knelt  to  that  young  girl,  a  prisoner,  un- 
renewed  and  unconverted,  adorned  only  with  the 
beauty  of  simple  truth,  —  the  stern  man  and  the 
Calvinist  bent  his  knee,  and  hot  tears  started 
from  his  eyes,  and  fell  upon  Naomi's  hand. 
There  is  something  terrible  in  seeing  a  stern 
man  weep.  Such  tears  are  the  scanty  drops  that 
trickle  from  the  cavern  of  the  rock,  and  are  pet 
rified  into  the  costly  diamond.  Naomi  covered 
her  face  with  one  hand,  and  she  did  not  with 
draw  the  other  from  his  clasp.  "  In  either  case," 
she  said,  "  I  could  not  so  requite  such  manly, 
such  noble  generosity.  I  could  not  so  injure,  so 
wrong,  your  generous  character,  as  to  consent 
to  go  with  you  as  your  heart  craves,  and  leave 
my  own  here,  — here,  around  this  prison,  where  it 
would  linger  and  bleed,  —  and  regret  and  sorrow 
would  be  your  only  companions.  The  life  that 
you  had  given  me  would  be  a  worthless  and 


372  NAOMI. 

empty  gift  to  you."  Seeing  him  about  to  speak, 
she  added,  —  "If  my  path  was  from  my  father's 
house,  instead  of  a  prison,  and  no  stigma  of 
shame  and  disgrace  rested  upon  the  future,  that 
future  must  be  far  from  yours." 

The  manner  of  Naomi  was  so  firm,  so  calm, 
so  gentle,  and  yet  so  decided,  that  it  left  not  a 
ray  of  hope  in  the  mind  of  her  suitor.  He  ap 
proached  the  door,  but  turned,  and  said,  —  "I 
leave  you,  a  broken-hearted  man  ;  but  blame  not 
yourself."  And  so  he  appeared  when,  the  next 
day,  he  mounted  his  horse  for  his  journey  to  his 
home.  The  path  that  lay  before  him,  frozen, 
icy,  and  covered  with  clouds,  was  like  the  path 
of  his  life.  Naomi  for  a  moment  burst  upon  it, 
like  a  sunbeam  of  joy,  and  it  seemed  green  with 
hope  and  rich  in  blossoms.  Now,  winter  had 
wrapped  it  again  in  its  mantle,  and  the  sky  had 
shut  over  heavy  and  black  with  the  cloud  of  dis 
appointment. 

Late  as  it  was,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson  was  not 
yet  allowed  to  seek  his  pillow  of  repose.  I  have 
already  mentioned  that  Herbert,  restless  and 
worn  by  the  horrible  state  of  suspense  hanging 
over  the  fate  of  Naomi,  hovered  like  a  tormented 
spirit  round  the  narrow  prison  that  inclosed  all 
for  which  his  heart  throbbed  in  agony  or  beat  in 
peace.  This  very  evening  he  had  been  waiting, 


NAOMI.  373 

alarmed  and  anxious  because  no  taper  glimmered 
as  usual  from  the  little  window.  He  had  ap 
proached  the  threshold  a  hundred  times,  and 
listened  to  catch  the  sounds  within.  He  heard 
only  the  noisy  clamors  and  violent  declamation 
of  those  Quakers  who  believed  themselves  at 
that  moment  under  the  influence  of  the  spirit. 
He  had  observed  the  approach  of  the  gentleman 
who  was  refused  admittance,  and  his  return  after 
wards  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson, — his  admit 
tance  alone  to  the  prison  of  Naomi.  The  pangs 
of  jealousy  were  now  added  to  the  pangs  of  de 
spairing  love.  Impelled  by  an  irresistible  im 
pulse,  when  he  saw  Mr.  Wilson  return  to  his 
home,  he  hastened  after  him,  and,  before  he  could 
close  the  door,  stepped  between  them  and  stood 
before  him.  The  reverend  gentleman  was  star 
tled,  but  instantly  recognized  the  young  student 
who  had  so  distinguished  himself  at  the  Com 
mencement,  but  had  also  fallen  under  some  de 
gree  of  censure  for  his  fearless  independence  of 
opinion.  He  kindly  extended  his  hand,  and 
drew  him  into  his  study. 

The  heart  of  Herbert  throbbed  wildly  in  his 
breast ;  he  scarcely  knew  what  excuse  to  make 
for  his  intrusion.  This  confusion  gave  a  timidi 
ty  to  his  manner  that  added  to  the  ingenuous 
ness  of  his  appearance.  He  scarcely  lifted  that 


374  NAOMI. 

piercing  eye,  which  was  hidden  beneath  the  cast- 
down  eyelid.  The  rich  color  of  his  cheek  faded, 
and  he  was  pale  as  ashes.  Mr.  Wilson  pointed 
to  a  chair,  and  said,  kindly,  —  "  You  come,  like 
Nicodemus,  in  the  night,  but  not,  I  trust,  upon 
an  errand  of  which  the  day  need  be  ashamed." 

Herbert  had  now  recovered  his  self-possession. 
"  I  came,"  he  said,  "  to  ask  you  to  do  for  me  the 
same  favor  that  I  believe  you  have  done  for 
others,  —  permit  me  to  visit  the  prisoners  in 
yonder  jail." 

"  You  have  a  relation  among  them  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Wilson. 

Herbert  hesitated.  He  was  strongly  tempted 
to  say  that  Naomi  was  his  sister,  although  he 
thanked  God  at  the  very  moment  that  she  was 
not  his  sister.  He  hesitated,  and  Mr.  Wilson 
kindly  and  by  degrees  drew  from  the  ingenuous 
young  man  the  relation  in  which  he  stood  to 
Naomi. 

Herbert  entertained  an  erroneous  idea,  that,  as 
Naomi  had  never  avowed  any  sentiment  contrary 
to  the  doctrines  of  the  church,  she  was  not 
amenable  to  that  body  on  account  of  the  part 
she  had  taken  in  the  flight  of  Margaret ;  and,  as 
that  was  an  offence  which  would  plead  for  her 
in  every  humane  heart  when  the  circumstances 
were  known,  she  would  not  suffer  severely  from 
the  civil  tribunal. 


NAOMI.  375 

Mr.  Wilson  told  him,  that,  on  the  contrary, 
Naomi's  sentiments  were  well  known.  She  had 
taken  no  pains,  he  said,  to  conceal  them,  al 
though  she  had  never  brought  them  forward  of 
fensively  ;  but  there  was  not  the  least  doubt  that 
she  held  the  distinguishing  tenet  of  that  accursed 
sect,  the  Quakers, — that  is,  "  the  sensible  and 
constant  direction  of  the  spirit  of  God  in  man." 

Herbert  said,  although  in  a  low  voice,  that  he 
saw  no  heresy  in  that. 

Mr.  Wilson  looked  at  him  with  surprise ;  he 
had  no  wish  to  detect  new  heretics,  and  he 
let  it  pass.  "  But,"  he  continued,  "  even  with 
out  the  knowledge  we  possess  of  Miss  Worthing- 
ton's  heretical  opinions,  she  is  liable  to  the  cen 
sure  of  the  church  —  which  is  bound  to  keep 
watch  and  ward  over  every  one  of  its  members 
—  for  her  neglect  of  her  religious  duties." 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  asked  Herbert. 

"  We  have  sufficient  evidence,"  said  the  rev 
erend  gentleman,  "  that  she  absents  herself  from 
the  family  prayers  of  her  step-father;  that  the 
Sabbath,  especially  the  afternoon  of  the  Sab 
bath,  is  not  reverently  observed  by  her ;  that 
she  often  walks  out  upon  the  western  side  of 
Beacon  Hill  before  sunset  on  the  Sabbath  day, 
thus  setting  an  example  of  irreverence  to  those 
who  are  eager  to  throw  off  the  restraints  of 
holy  time." 


376  NAOMI. 

"Well,"  said  Herbert;  "but  these  are  not  of 
fences  to  entail  any  thing  but  a  slight  admo 
nition." 

"Ah,  my  dear  young  friend!  you  know  lit 
tle  of  the  spirit  of  the  times ;  banishment  from 
the  country  is  the  lightest  penalty  that  would 
follow  an  examination."  And  Mr.  Wilson  did 
not  attempt  to  disguise  from  Herbert  that  Nao 
mi's  best  hopes  were  in  an  escape  from  prison. 
Together  they  concerted  a  plan,  which  it  de 
pended  on  her  consent  alone  to  render  practica 
ble  ;  and  Herbert  went  home  that  night,  more 
soothed  and  hopeful  than  he  had  been  since  the 
night  he  forded  the  river  by  her  side. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

"It  may  be  believed,  that  in  the  world  behind  the  stars, 
where  they  must  certainly  have  their  own  peculiar  notions 
upon  devotion,  even  the  involuntary  folding  of  the  hands  may 
be  valued  as  a  prayer  ;  and  many  warm  hand-pressures  and 
lip-pressures,  yes,  many  curses  even,  may  be  there  received  as 
ejaculatory  prayers ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  great  church- 
illuminating  prayers may  be  there  regarded  as  mere 

curses."  —  JEAN  PAUL. 

IT  was  the  pious  custom  of  our  fathers,  in  all 
domestic  calamities,  to  call  upon  the  ministers  to 
hold  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer  at  the  house  of 
the  afflicted.  They  were  so  far  private,  that  only 
relatives  and  intimate  friends  were  invited  to 
take  part  in  the  devotional  exercises.  Mr.  Alder- 
sey  had  appointed  a  day  for  such  a  fast,  and  in 
vited  the  ministers  and  elders  to  attend.  Such 
occasions  were  not  strictly  held  without  a  mor 
sel  of  food  ;  no  dinner  was  cooked,  but  creature 
comforts  and  the  mere  sustenance  of  the  phys 
ical  part  were  not  wholly  neglected.  They  were 
somewhat  like  the  funerals  that  were  held  at  the 
houses  of  the  deceased,  involving  great  expense, 
and  the  preparation  for  them  was  sometimes  ex 
tremely  costly.  Mr.  Aldersey  would  be  behind 


378 


NAOMI. 


no  one  in  hospitality,  and  Faith  had  been  busied 
several  days,  during  which  time  the  oven  had 
never  cooled  in  making  and  baking  cakes  for  the 
fast.  To  these  were  added  the  good  wine  and 
ale  from  the  cellar,  and  in  the  intervals  of  devo 
tion  they  were  not  sparingly  consumed. 

Let  me  not  be  suspected  of  the  design  of 
throwing  the  slightest  shade  of  ridicule  or  cen 
sure  upon  the  sincere  piety  of  our  fathers  ;  there 
were  among  them  the  purest  and  most  devout 
spirits,  as  no  doubt  there  were,  as  there  have 
been  in  every  age  of  the  church,  hypocrites  and 
formalists.  Among  those  who  came  that  day  to 
fast  and  pray  were  true  and  devout  hearts, 
touched  with  real  sorrow  ;  no  doubt  there  were 
others,  who  could  not  live  upon  merely  spiritual 
food,  to  whom  the  creature  comforts  were  the 
truest  means  of  improvement. 

Faith,  who,  like  all  sincere  but  partially  in 
structed  souls  in  whom  reverence  is  strongly  de 
veloped,  trusted  most  devoutly  and  entirely  in 
the  efficacy  of  the  prayers  offered  that  day.  Her 
imagination  had  never  suggested  to  her  that  the 
New  England  church  was  not  perfect  in  its  faith 
and  in  its  discipline.  Yet  in  this  particular  case, 
where  she  had  a  thousand  times  penetrated  to 
the  bottom  of  the  heart  of  Naomi,  and  seen  its 
humble  self-abnegation,  its  transparent  purity, 


NAOMI.  379 

and  now  heard  these  self-congratulatory  prayers, 
— these  ministers  thanking  God  that  they  were  not 
as  others,  that  they  fasted  and  prayed,  that  they 
were  not  like  the  poor,  suspected  heretic,  for 
whom  they  were  met  to  pray,  —  she  could  not 
but  feel  and  believe  that  Naomi's  prayer,  breathed 
silently  in  her  humble  prison,  would  be  as  effica 
cious  for  the  church  as  those  of  the  church  for 
her ;  that  they  would  mount  upon  the  white 
wings  of  angels,  and  find  their  way  to  the 
throne  of  God. 

In  the  intervals  between  reading  the  Scriptures 
and  the  prayers,  refreshments  were  handed  round. 
The  family  tailor,  a  thin  and  spare  man,  had 
already  filled  his  capacious  pockets  with  the 
cakes  that  had  several  times  been  offered,  when 
an  aged  woman,  who  was  sometimes  hired  as  a 
nurse  in  the  family,  and  had  been  invited  to  the 
fast,  and  was  sitting  near,  said  to  him,  —  "  Well, 
you  will  have  a  heavy  miss  of  it  if  the  young 
girl  is  hung,  as  they  say  she  will  be." 

"Not  so  much  as  you  think,"  said  the  other; 
"  her  gowns  were  so  plain  I  made  nothing  upon 
them  ;  it  is  the  furbelows  and  flounces  that  put 
the  money  in  our  pockets  ;  they  take  time  ;  a 
plain  gown,  such  as  Miss  Naomi  wears,  may  be 
made  in  a  day,  but  the  flouncing  and  herringbon- 
ing  take  a  man  a  week.  Ah,  I  wish  you  could 


380  NAOMI. 

see  a  real  court  dress,  with  the  ruffs  and  the 
cuffs,  and  the  spangles  and  pearls,  the  feathers 
and  furbelows,  the  flounces  and  flowers,  the 
whalebone  and  herringbone !  Why,  I  have  made 
dresses  in  England,  for  the  court  ladies,  that 
would  stand  alone,  and  almost  go  alone,  and  cost, 
when  they  were  finished,  more  than  a  hundred 
pounds." 

"  You  !  "  said  the  old  woman,  looking  at  him 
with  an  incredulous  smile  and  shake  of  her 
head. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  tailor ;  "  I  made  a 
dress  for  Mistress  Gwynne,  so  covered  with  pearls 
and  diamonds  that  they  said  she  never  put  it  on 
without  losing  two  or  three  hundred  pounds  in 
the  pearls  she  dropped  from  it." 

"  You  ought  to  have  lost  your  ears,"  said  the 
nurse,  "  for  putting  them  on  so  slightly  that 
they  would  fall  off  when  she  moved." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  tailor  with  a  sly  wink,  "  you 
do  n't  understand ;  I  knew  the  court  ladies  were 
rolling  in  riches  ;  —  why,  if  you  will  believe  it, 
when  their  lap-dogs  are  sick  they  give  them 
powders  of  pounded  diamonds  ;  — -  well,  as  they 
are  always  followed  by  poor  wretches  that  have 
not  even  bread  to  put  in  their  mouths,  I  meant 
the  pearls  should  be  dropped,  so  that  these  poor 
wretches  might  find  them  ;  then,  you  know,  they 
were  honestly  theirs." 


NAOMI.  381 

The  old  lady  nurse  shook  her  head  ;  she  was 
deeply  considering  whether  this  mode  of  trans 
ferring  the  property  of  the  rich  to  the  poor  and 
needy  was  really  honest. 

They  were  now  hushed  into  silence  ;  one  of 
the  elders  had  again  opened  the  Bible,  and  was 
beginning  to  exhort ;  this  was  followed  by 
prayer.  As  soon  as  it  was  over  the  tailor  began 
upon  his  favorite  subject,  addressing  himself  to 
the  old  woman.  "  Ah,  I  wish  you  could  see 
the  wedding  dresses  I  have  made  for  the  court 
ladies  !  » 

"  I  have  hearn  say,"  said  the  old  woman, 
"  that  the  court  ladies  do  n't  mind  being  mar 
ried.  But  if  that  is  what  you  want,  you  will 
have  enough  of  that,  —  soon  enough,  too.  The 
little  one,  I  hear,  is  going  to  be  married,  as  soon 
as  they  get  over  the  other  thing.  Poor  lamb  !  " 

"  Married  ?  —  to  whom  ?  "  asked  the  tailor. 

"  Well,  they  do  say,  to  the  young  man  that 
saved  her  life  when  they  were  travelling.  She 
fell  into  a  river  somewhere ;  her  horse  threw  her, 
they  say,  and  he  plunged  in  and  saved  her  life. 
Well,  he,  poor  man,  he  was  blind,  he  never 
thought  of  such  a  thing  ;  but  the  little  Ruth, 
poor  thing,  she  pined  and  pined  (you  may  see 
how  pale  she  is),  and  at  last  her  father,  stiff  as 
he  sits  there,  never  looking  but  straight  before 


382  NAOMI. 

him,  he  found  it  out ;  and  as  the  young  man  had 
no  notion  that  way,  why,  they  say  he  promised 
him  all  Miss  Ome's  money  into  the  bargain,  if 
things  went  bad  with  her,  poor  lamb  !  " 

The  tailor  declared  he  did  not  believe  one 
word  of  all  this,  and  the  old  woman  continued 
her  gossip ;  she  did  not  approve  of  these  out-of- 
door  deaths,  hanging,  &c.  •  people  should  die  in 
their  beds,  of  a  good  long  illness,  and  be  well 
nursed  and  kept  comfortable ;  there  was  no 
comfort  in  dangling  like  Mary  Dyer  in  the  open 
air  ;  and,  poor  angel !  she  would  get  no  good 
nursing." 

While  this  gossip  was  going  on  in  one  room, 
poor  Sambo  was  attacked  in  another.  "  So," 
said  one  of  the  helpers,  "  these  doings  would 
not  suit  the  young  lady  up  yonder ;  they  say  she 
could  not  even  say  the  Lord's  prayer ;  she  was 
always  stopped  in  the  midst  by  the  Devil." 

Sambo  declared  it  was  all  a  lie. 

"  But  she  never  came  to  family  prayers,"  said 
the  other. 

"  O,  yes ;  Miss  Omai  always  come  to  prayers." 
Sambo  was  most  blind,  he  said  of  himself;  he 
did  not  see  her,  but  he  "  always  hear  Miss  Omai's 
silk  gown  rattle  when  she  came  in." 

"  Well,  but,  Sambo,  you  are  deaf,"  said  the 
other. 


NAOMI.  383 

"  Only  deaf  one  ear,"  said  Sambo  :  "  ear  next 
to  massa  deaf,  when  he  make  a  long  prayer,  but 
t'  other  ear  hear  Miss  Omai's  silk  gown,  and  know 
Miss  Omai's  silk  gown  come  to  prayers." 

"Well,"  persisted  the  other,  "but  Miss  Naomi 
cannot  read  the  Bible ;  for  they  say  that  when 
ever  she  comes  to  any  holy  words,  such  as  God 
or  the  Saviour,  the  Devil  stops  her,  she  can't 
pronounce  them." 

Sambo's  patience  was  now  exhausted.  He 
was  pale  with  anger.  It  was  a  lie,  a  wicked 
lie.  Miss  Omai  read  the  Bible  better  than  Parson 
Wilson  ever  read  it  in  the  pulpit ;  beside  that,  she 
had  taught  him  to  read  it.  Nobody  ever  taught 
him  to  read,  he  said,  till  Miss  Omai  came  all  the 
way  from  England ;  and  now  he  could  read  the 
Bible  as  well  as  any  of  them. 

It  was  true  that  Naomi  had  endeavoured  to 
teach  Sambo  the  alphabet,  by  making  use  of  the 
capital  letters  in  the  Bible.  Bibles  were  then 
printed  in  black  letter,  and  she  had  found  it  a 
hopeless  task  to  make  him  distinguish  the  differ 
ent  forms  of  the  capital  letters. 

And  Naomi,  —  how  was  it  with  her,  in  her 
dreary  prison,  upon  this  day,  when  there  were 
solemn  fast  and  festival  in  her  father's  house,  of 
which  she  was  the  cause  and  the  object  ?  It  was 
the  only  day  since  her  imprisonment  that  Faith 


384 


NAOMI. 


had  not  cheered,  at  least  for  a  brief  half-hour, 
the  solitude  of  her  narrow  cell.  This  absence, 
and,  moreover,  the  cause  of  the  absence,  had 
filled  her  with  sad  misgivings,  clouded  the  seren 
ity  of  her  mind,  and  prevented  her  from  reading 
her  own  heart  aright.  Naomi  was  never  self- 
confident  ;  an  excess  of  humility  sometimes  rob 
bed  her  of  her  due  self-reliance  ;  they  had  met 
to  pray  for  her,  but  to  pray  for  her  as  an  erring 
and  guilty  creature,  who  had  wilfully  wandered 
from  the  true  path ;  and  now,  in  the  solitude  of 
her  prison,  as  she  looked  out  upon  the  leaden- 
colored  sky  and  the  dark,  turbulent  waves  of  the 
bay,  where  no  gleam  of  light  penetrated  be 
tween  the  horizon  and  the  overhanging  clouds, 
and  then  looked  down  upon  the  snow-covered 
roofs  of  the  little  town,  under  which  roofs  she 
fancied  were  now  beating  hundreds  of  happy 
hearts,  the  thought  pressed  sorely  upon  her,  — 
Had  she  not  been  presumptuous  ?  were  they  not 
the  vain  imaginings  of  an  ambitious  spirit,  rather 
than  the  convictions  of  truth  and  reason,  that 
had  led  her  here?  She  was  thinking  only  of 
her  mental  differences  with  the  church,  and  for 
got  the  noble  action  for  which  she  was  a  pris 
oner.  As  she  leaned  upon  her  little  window, 
and  looked  out  upon  the  dreary  landscape  of 
winter,  she  recalled  the  lovely  green  slopes  of 


NAOMI.  385 

England,  —  the  peace  and  security  of  her  own  life 
there.  Had  she  spoken  now,  in  this  hour  of  de 
spondency,  it  would  have  been  in  the  words  of 
her  namesake  of  old,  —  "  Call  me  not  Naomi,  call 
me  Mara ;  seeing  the  Lord  hath  testified  against 
me,  and  the  Almighty  hath  afflicted  me." 


25 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

"  Law,  take  thy  victim.     May  she  find  the  mercy 
In  yon  mild  heaven  which  this  hard  world  denies  her  ! " 

THE  day  appointed  for  the  trial  of  the  prison 
ers  in  the  Boston  jail  dawned  cloudy  and  cold  ; 
a  leaden-colored  sky  hung  darkly  over  the  town, 
and  occasional  showers  of  fine  snow  added  a 
deeper  chill  to  the  air.  The  prisoners  were  con 
ducted  to  the  bar  by  constables,  preceded  by 
the  sound  of  beaten  drums,  and  guarded  by  a 
company  of  soldiers. 

The  Quakers,  men  and  women,  entered  the 
court  clothed  in  sackcloth,  the  men  keeping  their 
hats  firmly  on,  the  women  uncovered,  except 
with  their  long  hair  thickly  strewn  with  ashes. 
This  new  kind  of  powdering  gave  to  their  feat 
ures  a  sharp  and  deathlike  aspect.  The  appear 
ance  of  Naomi  presented  a  strange  contrast  to  the 
wild  and  witch-like  appearance  of  these  women. 
The  first  glance  would  have  told  the  most  care 
less  observer  that  there  could  be  nothing  in  com 
mon  between  them,  and  only  some  strange  and 
unexplained  destiny  could  have  brought  them 
in  company  to  the  same  criminal  bar. 


NAOMI.  387 

Naomi  was  this  day  paler  than  usual,  and  her 
hair,  which  until  her  imprisonment  she  had  worn 
curled, .  according  to  the  prevailing  fashion,  was 
combed  plainly  around  her  temples,  and  con 
fined  in  a  knot  at  the  back,  giving  to  her  head 
a  purely  Grecian  form.  The  extreme  coldness 
of  the  day  obliged  her  to  wrap  herself  in  a  cloak 
of  crimson  broadcloth,  open  at  the  throat,  and 
lined  with  a  dark  sable  fur ;  the  collar  was 
thrown  a  little  back,  and  the  white  throat  con 
trasted  with  the  dark  fur  of  the  lining.  Naomi 
was  also  ordered  to  take  her  place  with  the 
others  at  the  bar  ;  but  the  offence  for  which  she 
was  arraigned,  that  of  assisting  a  conolemned 
Quaker  to  escape  from  justice,  was  totally  dif 
ferent  from  that  of  being  a  Quaker. 

As  soon  as  Naomi  was  seated,  there  was  a  rush 
of  the  young  gentlemen,  the  elite  of  the  times, 
the  young  Puritan  beaux,  to  a  part  of  the  room 
where  they  could  gaze  at  and  mark  every  ex 
pression,  every  change  of  her  countenance,  her 
dress,  her  air,  her  bearing  ;  and  this  constant 
surveillance  caused  not  a  small  part  of  the  an 
noyance  she  suffered  during  her  trial. 

She  was  permitted  to  take  a  seat,  guarded, 
however,  by  a  constable,  and  to  await  her  trial 
till  the  next  day.  Ruth,  who  had  been  waiting 
in  a  distant  part  of  the  hall,  rushed  forward,  and 


388 


NAOMI. 


placed  herself  at  the  side  of  her  sister.  Mr. 
Aldersey  —  who  had  throughout  assumed  the  ap 
pearance  of  complete  impartiality,  and  who  con 
tinually  said  to  himself,  "  If  ye  hate  not  father 
and  mother,  son  and  daughter,  for  my  sake,  ye 
are  none  of  mine  "  —  sat  with  the  Assistants  j  and 
the  excellent  Faith  being  among  the  witnesses, 
Naomi  was  deprived  of  the  comforting  presence 
of  that  faithful  friend. 

The  trial  of  these  Quakers  would  have  been 
soon  completed ;  they  denied  nothing,  they  glo 
ried  in  the  offences  for  which  they  were  placed  at 
that  bar ;  but  at  the  moment  they  were  about 
being  dismissed,  Wenlock  Christison,  a  banished 
Quaker,  suddenly  entered  the  court,  and  took 
his  stand  by  the  side  of  the  other  prisoners, 
striking  dismay  into  the  minds  of  the  magis 
trates. 

"  Are  you  not  the  man  that  was  banished  on 
pain  of  death  ?  "  demanded  the  governor. 

"  Yes,  I  am." 

"  What  do  you  here,  then  ?  " 

"  I  am  come,"  was  the  answer,  "  to  warn  you 
that  you  shed  no  more  innocent  blood ;  for  the 
blood  that  you  have  shed  cries  to  the  Lord  for 
vengeance  against  you." 

"  We  have  a  law,"  answered  the  governor, 
"  and  by  that  law  you  are  to  die." 


NAOMI.  389 

"  Have  you  authority  to  make  laws  repugnant 
to  the  laws  of  England  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then  you  are  gone  beyond  your  bounds. 
There  is  no  law  in  England  to  hang  Quakers," 
was  the  undaunted  reply. 

"  But  there  is  a  law  in  England  to  hang 
Jesuits." 

"  But  I  am  no  Jesuit ;  and  if  you  put  me  to 
death,  it  is  not  in  the  name  of  a  Jesuit,  but  of  a 
Quaker." 

The  judges  turned  slightly  pale  ;  they  had 
committed  an  error ;  the  governor,  however,  add 
ed,  —  "  You  have  broken  our  law,  and  by  our 
law  you  shall  die  !  " 

"  What  do  you  gain  by  it  ?  "  said  Christison  ; 
"  for  the  last  man  that  you  have  put  to  death, 
here  are  five  come  in  his  room.  If  you  have 
power  to  take  my  life,  God  can  raise  up  the 
same  principle  of  life  in  ten  of  his  servants,  and 
send  them  among  you  in  my  room,  that  you 
may  have  torment  upon  torment ;  for  there  is  no 
peace  to  the  wicked,  saith  my  God." 

Notwithstanding  the  intrepidity  of  the  man, 
the  j\iry  immediately  returned  a  verdict  of 
guilty  against  the  voluntary  victim.* 


*  Wenlock  Christison  afterwards  accepted  the  clemency  of 
the  court. — Chandler's  Criminal  Trials. 


390  NAOMI. 

This  trial  lasted  but  one  day.  All  were  sen 
tenced  to  perpetual  banishment ;  some  to  stripes 
and  heavy  fines. 

The  next  day  being  the  one  appointed  for  the 
trial  of  Naomi,  the  court  was  crowded  at  a  very 
early  hour.  There  was  the  same  impetuous  cu 
riosity  of  the  young  men  to  gain  a  view  of  the 
prisoner,  to  whose  numbers  to-day  were  added 
the  young  bachelors  and  undergraduates  from 
Cambridge.  The  trial  of  the  Quakers,  except 
the  sudden  appearance  of  Wenlock  Christison, 
had  excited  very  little  general  interest.  They, 
especially  the  women,  were  low  and  illiterate, 
remarkable  only  for  their  violence,  their  power 
of  doing  mischief,  and  a  perseverance  in  their 
thirst  for  martyrdom,  which  gave  even  to  the 
wildness  of  their  doctrines  the  pledge  of  sincer 
ity.  But  here  was  a  young  woman,  belonging 
to  one  of  the  distinguished  families  of  the  little 
town,  whose  apparent  offence,  that  for  which 
she  stood  at  the  bar,  could  be  considered  no 
very  heinous  crime,  and  only  a  crime  because  it 
was  the  violation  of  a  recent  stringent  law. 
Naomi  herself  had  wished  to  plead  guilty  to  the 
charge  of  assisting  Margaret,  a  condemned  Qua 
ker,  to  escape,  and  to  take  the  consequences ;  but 
the  court  by  no  means  desired  such  an  issue  as 
that.  As  I  have  said  before,  the  report  had  gone 


NAOMI.  391 

abroad,  and  was  every  day  strengthening,  that 
Naomi  entertained  the  same  opinions  as  the 
Quakers  themselves  ;  that  in  her  secret  soul  she 
was  a  Quaker,  and  moreover  a  contemner  of 
the  church  and  the  ministers. 

The  ministers,  as  well  as  the  magistrates,  had, 
perhaps  unconsciously  to  themselves,  allowed  a 
strong  prejudice  to  grow  up  in  their  hearts 
against  this  humble  girl.  She  had  dared  to 
think  for  herself,  and  to  differ  from  those  who 
were  alone  the  true  interpreters  of  the  meaning 
of  the  Bible,  the  true  ministers  of  the  only  true 
church.  If  the  times  and  the  men  are  consid 
ered,  this  will  appear  in  them  neither  strange  nor 
arrogant.  They  were  the  men  of  the  day,  the 
fanatics  of  the  hour,  and  they  resembled  the 
fanatics  of  every  age.  They  sincerely  thought 
that,  by  torturing  heresy,  they  were  honoring 
truth,  —  by  putting  down  the  heretics,  they  were 
exalting  the  saints. 

As  Naomi  was  returning  to  her  prison,  the 
evening  before,  under  the  charge  of  the  consta 
ble,  a  small  scrap  of  paper  was  thrust  secretly 
into  her  hand  by  a  young  woman,  who  was  hur 
riedly  passing  at  the  moment  by  her  side.  The 
cloudy  obscurity  of  the  afternoon  prevented 
even  the  constable  that  walked  at  her  side  from 
observing  it.  As  soon  as  she  could  unfold  it,  in 


392  NAOMI. 

her  prison,  she  trembled  for  joy,  for  she  recog 
nized  the  handwriting.  It  contained  only  these 
few  words.  "  Refuse  to  answer  all  questions,  to 
morrow,  except  those  touching  the  offence  for 
which  you  are  arraigned,  that  of  assisting  Mar 
garet  to  escape." 

As  I  have  said  before,  the  court  was  crowded 
at  an  early  hour.  The  dress  and  appearance  of 
Naomi  were  the  same  as  on  the  previous  day ; 
but,  as  she  was  now  alone  at  the  bar,  her  un 
protected,  isolated  youth  touched  many  hearts. 
The  young  men,  who  had  crowded  in  as  on  the 
day  before,  were  ready  to  peril  every  thing  to 
save  her.  The  opening  prayer  by  the  Rev. 
John  Norton  was  not  such  as  would  encourage 
the  favorable  impression  her  appearance  pro 
duced.  Its  fervid  eloquence,  its  denunciatory 
violence,  made  the  audience  tremble  even  for  the 
safety  of  the  church  ;  the  ark  of  the  Lord  was 
in  danger ;  and  that  pale,  and  humble,  and  del 
icate  woman,  standing  alone  at  the  bar  of  the 
criminal,  was  an  enemy  to  the  church,  an  abet 
tor  of  wickedness,  an  agent  and  instrument  of 
Se-.tan  for  its  destruction. 

A  momentary  diversion  was  occasioned  in  the 
court,  by  the  debate  whether  Sambo  should  be 
sworn  and  admitted  as  a  witness.  The  court 
objected  to  administering  an  oath  to  a  person 


NAOMI.  393 

who  could  not  read.  Sambo  had  been  baptized, 
and  was  a  member  of  the  Boston  church  ;  but 
as  he  did  not  know  the  letters  of  the  alphabet, 
the  judges  thought  he  would  not  understand  the 
obligations  of  an  oath. 

Sambo  averred  that  he  knew  how  to  read, 
that  Miss  Naomi,  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  had 
taught  him  to  read.  His  ideas  of  reading  were 
like  those  of  a  little  child,  who,  on  the  second 
day  of  going  to  school,  asked  what  she  was  to 
learn  that  day,  for  that  she  had  learned  to  read 
the  day  before. 

Upon  Sambo's  persisting  in  the  opinion  that 
he  could  read,  and  to  gratify  his  extreme  anxiety 
to  become  a  witness,  he  was  ordered  to  make 
the  trial  in  the  open  court.  The  Bible  was  pre 
sented  to  him,  open  at  one  of  the  chapters  of  the 
Book  of  Numbers.  Sambo  had  learnt  by  heart, 
with  the  assistance  of  Naomi,  the  Psalm  begin 
ning,  "  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd,  I  shall  not 
want " ;  and  he  read  it  off  with  great  fluency, 
with  the  chapter  of  Numbers  before  his  eyes. 
This  was  sufficient  for  the  court.  The  judge 
declared  Sambo  could  not  be  admitted  as  a 
witness. 

The  most  essential  and  important  testimony  to 
the  fact  of  Naomi's  assisting  a  condemned  Quak 
er,  Margaret,  her  nurse,  to  escape,  was  expected 


394  NAOMI. 

from  Herbert  Walton  ;  but  to  all  questions,  put 
in  every  form  of  ingenuity  and  craft,  they  could 
only  obtain  the  answer,  that  the  horse  was  sad 
dled  and  brought  to  Margaret,  herself  placed 
thereon,  and  her  path  pointed  out,  from  a  senti 
ment  of  pure  humanity  and  a  desire  of  his  own 
that  she  should  escape.  Neither  by  sign,  nor 
word,  nor  look,  did  he  betray  that  he  had  ever 
seen  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  before,  or  had  had 
the  slightest  communication  with  her.  Naomi, 
when  questioned,  told  the  truth,  without  impli 
cating  Herbert.  She  had  furnished  Margaret 
with  her  own  horse  to  escape,  and  she  pleaded 
the  motive  ;  Margaret  had  been  the  old  and 
attached  servant  of  her  mother  (and  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears),  the  faithful  nurse  of  her  own 
infancy,  and  she  hoped  that  would  excuse  her 
in  every  parent's  heart,  and  would  plead  for  her 
in  every  other. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  enter  into  the  particulars 
of  this  trial.  Every  thing  was  proved  against 
Naomi ;  for  as  Herbert's  heart  was  the  temple  of 
conscience,  as  well  as  the  shrine  of  love,  when 
put  upon  oath  it  was  proved  that  all  he  did  was 
at  the  order  of  Naomi.  It  was  proved  beyond  a 
doubt,  that  Naomi  had  visited  a  house  where 
Quakers  held  their  meetings,  and  that  she  alone 
had  instigated  and  assisted  the  flight  of  Marga- 


NAOMI.  395 

ret  from  the  hands  of  justice.  Not  a  word  was 
whispered  of  Margaret's  having  been  sheltered 
more  than  three  months  under  the  roof  of  Mr. 
Aldersey.  It  was  not  the  purpose  of  the  court 
to  implicate  so  exemplary  a  church-member,  so 
zealous  a  detecter  of  heresy  in  others.  Ah  !  the 
cross  he  had  to  bear  was  sufficiently  heavy,  — 
a  step-daughter  had  brought  under  his  roof- 
tree  the  taint  of  heresy  ;  a  relative,  whose  de 
struction  would  throw  into  his  hands  some  thou 
sands  of  pounds,  and  spread  over  his  character  the 
fresh  gilding  of  a  purer  zeal  for  the  church ! 

Every  thing,  as  I  have  said  before,  had  been 
proved  against  Naomi ;  but  they  were  offences 
that  pleaded  for  her  in  every  benevolent  heart. 
As  she  stood  there,  in  the  sweetness  of  her 
youth,  in  her  unprotected  orphanhood,  a  crim 
inal  only  in  the  eyes  of  those  whose  minds 
were  bound  with  the  iron  chains  of  bigotry,  an 
angel  to  invisible  spirits,  if  they  hovered  there, 
the  court  perceived  that  a  murmur  of  disappro 
bation  of  their  proceedings  against  her  was  ex 
tending  among  the  audience  j  every  eye  was 
turned,  with  softened  expression,  towards  Naomi, 
and  the  younger  portion  of  the  assembly  were 
pressing  with  enthusiasm  towards  her.  Sudden 
ly,  the  judge  seemed  to  awake,  and  put  the 
question,  "  Did  she  believe  herself  in  a  state  of 
grace?"  - 


396 


NAOMI. 


Naomi  was  taken  by  surprise.  She  was  too 
humble,  too  truly  self-conscious  of  infirmities,  to 
answer  in  the  affirmative,  and  yet,  as  she  was  a 
member  of  the  church,  to  have  answered  in  any 
but  an  assured  spirit,  would  have  been  to  con 
demn  herself,  in  the  view  of  those  who  held  the 
orthodox  creed  of  the  questioners,  as  an  uncon 
verted  sinner.  Suddenly  the  paper  that  had 
been  thrust  into  her  hand  occurred  to  her  mem 
ory.  She  breathed  again,  and  answered,  that 
she  humbly  conceived  she  was  not  bound  to 
answer  that  question,  as  it  was  totally  foreign  to 
the  offence  for  which  she  stood  arraigned  at 
their  bar. 

A  whispered  conference  ran  round  the  court ; 
and  she  was  asked,  "  Was  she  not  amenable  to 
the  church,  —  a  subject  of  its  care,  its  admonition, 
its  discipline  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Naomi ;  "  but  she  was  not 
conscious  that  she  stood  arraigned  before  the 
spiritual  court  of  the  church." 

"  She  did  not  at  this  moment,"  they  answered  ; 
"  but  the  court  had  decided,  that,  before  pro 
nouncing  sentence  against  her,  they  would  rec 
ommend  her  to  the  examination,  the  admonition, 
and  discipline  of  the  church." 

At  this  announcement  Naomi's  courage  failed, 
and  she  became  pale  as  death.  She  knew  that 


NAOMI.  397 

such  an  examination  would  be  inexorable,  and 
that  with  a  pure  conscience  she  could  make  use 
of  no  mental  reservation,  and  could  not  es 
cape  the  condemnation  of  her  judges.  A  gulf 
was  suddenly  opened  before  her,  from  which 
there  was  no  escape.  The  other  offence,  prompt 
ed  by  gratitude  and  humanity,  would  be  excused 
by  every  benevolent  heart,  and  if  punished  as  a 
violation  of  a  recent  law,  could  be  punished  only 
very  lightly ;  but  to  think  for  herself  upon  great 
questions,  to  dare  to  differ  from  her  spiritual  teach 
ers,  to  dare  to  hold  opinions  at  variance  with  the 
only  true  church,  was  the  unpardonable  sin  of 
the  age,  stigmatized  as  blasphemy,  a  sin  for 
whose  forgiveness  the  angels  might  plead  in 
vain. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

"  If  love,  a  slender  ray, 
Chance  through  my  bars  to  stray 

And  pierce  to  me, 
My  cell,  no  more  a  tomb, 
Smiles  in  its  caverned  gloom, 
As  nature  to  the  free." 

As  I  have  mentioned  before,  the  place  of  Na 
omi's  confinement  was  a  small  upper  chamber. 
It  received  light  only  from  a  small  window  in 
the  pointed  roof,  that  projected  over  and  beyond 
the  walls  of  the  under  story,  and  gave  her  a 
view  of  the  whole  of  the  street  ascending  to 
wards  Pemberton  Hill,  and  descending  on  the 
other  side  to  the  long  wharf.  How  different  the 
aspect  of  the  little  town  from  that  which  it  now 
presents.  Instead  of  long  rows  of  gas,  that  give 
to  the  streets  the  brilliancy  of  a  summer's  day, 
the  light  only  of  a  few  feeble  tapers  within  the 
houses  struggled  through  the  architectural  holes 
in  the  tops  of  the  window-shutters,  where  such 
luxury  as  a  shutter  was  permitted,  —  and  where 
shutters  were  absent,  the  discolored  rays  pierced 
the  green  diamond-shaped  panes,  throwing  a 
feeble  and  varying  light  upon  the  unpaved 


NAOMI.  399 

streets.  There  had  been  since  noon  a  light  fall 
of  snow,  that  lay  untrodden  upon  the  ground, 
which  aided  the  moon,  although  concealed  by 
thick  clouds,  to  give  a  partial  illumination  to  the 
streets. 

As  Naomi  looked  sadly  from  her  window,  she 
saw  the  same  patient  watcher,  pacing  back 
wards  and  forwards  like  a  sentinel  on  duty,  that 
she  had  seen  every  evening  since  her  imprison 
ment.  She  had  long  since  learnt  who  it  was 
that,  like  the  mother  bird,  hovered  around  the 
cradle  of  his  hopes,  there  to  live  or  die  ;  but  the 
newly  fallen  snow,  together  with  the  partial 
light  of  the  moonbeams,  falling  directly  on  the 
person  of  the  watcher,  enabled  her  to  see  that 
he  was  trying  to  attract  her  attention  towards 
himself.  Cautiously  she  raised  her  window, 
when  a  small  pebble,  aimed  with  great  precision, 
passed  by  her  arm  and  fell  upon  the  floor  behind 
her.  A  slip  of  paper  was  bound  around  the 
stone  containing  only  these  words :  — "  Open  your 
window  to-morrow  at  the  dawn  of  day." 

Joy,  pure  joy,  swelled  her  heart  as  she  read 
these  words.  She  was  watched  over,  and,  O, 
how  intensely  and  devotedly  guarded,  by  one 
whom  she  felt  it  was  happiness  enough  for  her 
to  love  !  Although  all  was  dark,  threatening, 
and  desolate  without,  in  her  future,  there  was 


400  NAOMI. 

light  in  her  heart,  a  buoyant  joy  that  made 
bonds  and  imprisonment  seem  only  like  the  ten 
drils  of  the  vine,  that  bound  her  to  some  rough 
support. 

Naomi  slept  little  that  night.  From  her  win 
dow,  just  at  the  foot  of  her  bed,  she  watched 
the  gradual  withdrawal  of  the  clouds,  and  the 
opening  rents  where  the  blue  sky  shone  through, 
and  the  constellations,  as  star  after  star  they 
passed  over  and  went  down  in  the  west,  the  long 
winter's  night,  so  cheerless  to  the  wakeful  pris 
oner  !  But  those  few  words  had  spread  beneath 
her  the  soft  couch  of  hope ;  and  as  soon  as  she 
saw  the  first  roselight  of  dawn  reflected  upon 
the  snow-covered  summit  of  Beacon  Hill,  she 
rose  softly  and  opened  her  window.  She  stood 
but  one  minute  admiring  the  varying  color  of 
the  light  upon  the  snow-covered  roofs  of  the 
houses,  when  a  pigeon,  a  perfectly  white  dove, 
lighted  upon  her  window-sill,  fluttered  his  wings 
a  moment,  so  that  Naomi  saw  a  letter  attached 
beneath  them,  and  then  flew  into  the  chamber 
and  rested  upon  the  table.  It  seemed  so  strange 
and  wonderful  a  messenger,  that  Naomi  trem 
bled  far  more  than  the  little  flutterer  before  her 
when  she  approached  him  to  detach  the  letter. 
The  bird  expected  this,  but  as  soon  as  he  was 
relieved  of  his  letter,  the  window  being  still 


NAOMI.  401 

open,  he  spread  his  wings  and  darted  away. 
Naomi  rushed  to  the  window,  but  there  was  no 
one  in  the  street,  and  the  dove's  lessening  wing 
was  all  she  saw  as  he  floated  away  in  the  blue 
ether. 

The  dove  has  ever  been  the  messenger  of 
peace  arid  love,  from  the  time  when  it  skimmed 
the  wild,  tossing  waves  of  the  deluge,  to  the 
period  when  it  descended  as  the  emblem  of  spir 
itual  purity  upon  the  head  of  the  Son,  and  down 
through  all  the  ages  of  violence  and  war,  till 
now,  when  it  lighted  on  the  humble  window  of 
the  most  unoffending  and  gentlest  of  prisoners. 

The  letter  detached  from  its  wing  contained  a 
key,  and  a  well-arranged  plan  for  Naomi's  escape. 
It  required  only  personal  intrepidity  and  the 
courage  that  few  women  possess,  together  with 
complete  confidence  in  him  who  arranged  the 
plan  of  escape.  It  was  indeed  a  bold  and  well- 
arranged  plan,  and  Naomi,  as  she  finished  its 
study,  laid  down  the  paper  in  despair. 

It  was  so  arranged  that  no  one  could  be  im 
plicated,  not  even  that  disinterested  friend,  Faith. 
Herbert  alone  took  the  responsibility  upon  him 
self;  but  then  it  involved  a  winter's  journey 
through  the  icy  and  snow-impeded  paths  of  the 
forest.  Naomi  had  too  much  good-sense  and 
purity  for  prudery,  but  she  could  not  resolve  to 
26 


402  NAOMI. 

compromise  the  safety  and  honor  of  this  gener 
ous  friend,  and  perhaps  blight  his  prospects 
through  life  by  connecting  his  name  with  one 
branded  with  heresy,  and  perhaps  also  blighted 
for  ever  by  the  dread  expiation  of  heresy. 

The  plan  was  not  accepted.  Her  window  re 
mained  closed  through  the  night  and  morning ; 
for  there  had  been  a  postscript,  directing  her,  if 
she  acceded  to  the  plan  of  escape,  to  open  her 
window  the  next  morning,  when  the  dove  would 
return  for  her  reply.  No,  the  window  remained 
closed.  Naomi  would  not  compromise  her  friend. 
As  soon  as  she  had  decided  this  deep  and  terrible 
conflict,  she  opened  the  Bible,  as  the  unhappy 
often  do,  to  see  if  the  eye  will  not  fall  upon 
some  comforting  words.  Naomi  was  startled  as 
hers  rested  on  these  words  of  Job  :  —  "  My  days 
are  past,  my  purposes  are  broken  off.  If  I  wait, 
the  grave  is  mine  house  :  I  have  made  my  bed 
in  darkness.  And  where  is  now  my  hope  ?  As 
for  my  hope,  who  shall  see  it  ?  " 


•    -.. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE  day  for  the  examination  of  Naomi  before 
the  committee  of  the  church,  a  day  far  more 
appalling  than  that  of  her  trial,  was  to  be  on 
the  morrow.  She  felt  at  this  moment  complete 
ly  isolated ;  there  was  no  one  whom  she  could 
make  understand  her  exact  position.  Even  Faith 
would  scarcely  have  comprehended,  if  she  were 
not  fully  a  Quaker,  how  she  could  differ  so  es 
sentially  from  the  church  as  to  put  her  life  in 
jeopardy.  Her  great  anxiety  was,  to  avoid  an 
interview  with  her  step-father,  as  she  had  no 
wish  to  involve  herself  in  a  quarrel  with  him. 
She  thought  at  one  time  of  sending  for  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Wilson,  and,  with  sincere  openness,  confid 
ing  to  him  the  truth  of  her  inmost  soul ;  but 
she  recollected  that  Mrs.  Hutchinson  gained 
nothing  by  her  reliance  upon  the  Puritan  saint, 
—  the  Rev.  Mr.  Cotton,  —  but  nearly  involved 
him  in  the  opprobrium  that  attached  to  herself. 
But,  forlorn  as  Naomi  -felt,  she  was  far  from  con 
scious  of  the  real  odium  attached  to  her.  The 
slanders  that  had  accumulated  since  she  was 
brought  before  the  little  public  of  Boston  at  her 


404  NAOMI. 

trial,  and  that  had  been  whispered  from  ear  to 
ear,  and  from  house  to  house,  made  her  threefold 
the  child  of  the  Devil.  All  this  had  arisen  from 
the  expected  censure  of  the  church,  which,  as  I 
have  said  before,  placed  one,  in  this  religious 
community  of  Boston,  beyond  the  pale  of  mercy 
or  justice. 

The  morning  that  Naomi  was  conducted  by 
the  constable  from  her  narrow  prison  to  the 
house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson,  short  as  was  the 
transit,  a  crowd,  impelled  by  curiosity,  or  a 
cruel  spirit  of  oppression,  gathered  around  her  on 
the  way.  It  was  indeed  Thursday,  the  day  of 
the  Lecture.  The  little  town  was  unusually 
full,  and,  unless  she  should  take  a  very  circuitous 
path  and  entered  the  back  premises  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Wilson,  —  which  the  constable  refused  to  do, 
—  she  was  obliged  to  cross  the  market-place, 
now  filled  with  country  sleds  and  sleighs  ;  horses 
tied  to  posts,  with  both  saddle  and  pillion,  show 
ing  that  the  country  dames  had  accompanied 
their  husbands  or  cavaliers  for  the  purpose  of  at 
tending  the  Lecture.  Boys  held  cows  and  calves 
by  the  halter,  and  more  than  one  living  swine, 
together  with  many  lying  stiff  and  frozen,  were 
offered  in  the  market  that  morning.  As  Naomi 
passed,  it  was  soon  known  ;  and  the  rude  boys 
called  after  her,  —  "  There  goes  Molly  Hutchin- 


NAOMI.  405 

son's  grand-daughter,  —  there  goes  the  half- 
duaker !  Well,  the  cart  's  all  ready,  and  the 
whip,  too.  I  Ve  a  nice  yoke  of  oxen  that  will 
go  as  slow  as  you  want ;  —  give  you  a  dozen  be 
fore  they  have  gone  ten  steps." 

Naomi  was  taken  into  the  room  I  have  al 
ready  described,  —  the  study  of  the  reverend 
pastor.  The  sun,  shining  into  the  windows  that 
looked  out  upon  the  dazzling  white  of  the  snow, 
showed  its  scrupulous  neatness ;  and  only  the 
light  ashes  of  the  hickory  wood,  consuming  in 
the  ample  chimney,  furnished  motes  to  dance  in 
the  sun-beams.  The  extreme  warmth  and  com 
fort  of  the  room  seemed  to  be  entirely  appreci 
ated  by  a  couple  of  plethoric  cats,  that  were  ly 
ing  curled  up  near  the  andirons.  Mr.  Wilson 
was  dressed  for  the  Thursday  Lecture,  with  his 
cassock  and  his  bands  ;  his  white  hair,  parted  in 
the  centre  of  the  forehead,  hung  down  upon 
each  shoulder.  His  mild  and  sad  expression  for 
an  instant  carried  comfort  to  Naomi's  heart,  as 
she  asked  leave  to  throw  off  her  cloak,  the  ex 
treme  warmth  of  the  room  after  the  keen  out 
ward  air  inducing  a  slight  feeling  of  faintness. 

With  the  utmost  courtesy  he  assisted  her  to 
remove  the  heavy  cloak  lined  with  fur.  Had 
Naomi  been  bent  upon  conquest,  she  could  not 
have  attired  herself  more  becomingly  than  she 


406  NAOMI. 

had  done  unconsciously,  and  without  a  thought 
except  of  the  extreme  coldness  of  the  day.  She 
wore  a  close-fitting  dark-velvet  dress,  the  sleeves 
and  the  neck  (which  was  open)  heing  trimmed 
with  the  fur  of  the  silver-gray  fox.  A  white 
cambric  chemise,  or  gorget,  as  it  was  then  call 
ed,  was  drawn  closely  up  to  the  beautiful  white 
throat,  and  her  hair,  without  curl,  was  plain  up 
on  her  temples. 

Naomi  had  scarcely  recovered  from  her  faint- 
ness  when  the  other  members  of  the  committee 
entered.  The  Rev.  John  .Norton  and  two  of  the 
ruling  elders,  together  with  the  pastor  already 
present,  constituted  the  tribunal  before  which 
she  was  summoned.  It  was  a  strange  sight,  and 
a  stranger  contrast,  which  the  extreme  pallor 
caused  by  Naomi's  faintness  had  served  to  height 
en.  She  sat  there  in  her  youth  and  her  orphan 
hood,  comparatively  ignorant  and  humble,  ar 
raigned  as  an  offender  before  these  stern  and  grave 
old  men,  to  account  for  her  unconscious  heresies, 
and  to  renounce,  if  possible,  the  aspirations  of 
her  inexperienced  heart.  On  one  side,  the  experi 
ences  of  threescore  years ;  the  midnight  studies 
of  scholars  ;  the  gray-bearded  learning  of  sages  ; 
the  gathered  ashes  of  the  burnt-out  sacrifices 
of  Hebrew  altars ;  the  garnered  leaves  fallen 
from  the  ancient  groves  of  Greek  learning ;  the 


NAOMI.  407 

metaphysical  subtilties,  culled  from  ponderous 
tomes  of  the  later  fathers  and  the  stern  authori 
ty  of  their  own  church.  On  the  other  side,  the 
orphan  girl,  ignorant  of  all  but  the  wisdom  of 
truth  and  honesty,  unlearned  in  all  but  the  love 
of  the  heart. 

Mr.  Wilson  I  have  already  described.  The 
reverend  old  man  was  softened  by  bereavement 
and  age,  and  looked  with  an  eye  of  tenderness 
and  pity  upon  the  poor  young  woman,  subjected 
to  the  scrutiny  of  iron  wills,  and  hearts  cased  by 
bigotry  in  iron.  Norton  was  a  stern,  dark  man, 
and  although  his  eye  sparkled  with  intellect,  it 
did  not  melt  with  compassion.  Inflexible  in 
his  enmity  to  the  Quakers,  and  inexorable  in 
his  condemnation  of  all  who  favored  them,  he 
had  just  published  his  tractate  against  them  en 
titled  "  The  Heart  of  New  England  rent  at  the 
Blasphemies  of  the  Present  Generation,"  for 
which  he  was  rewarded  by  the  General  Court 
with  a  hundred  acres  of  land.  He  was,  indeed, 
a  burning  and  a  shining  light  in  the  church  ;  but 
his  lamp  was  not  fed  with  the  oil  pressed  from 
the  olive  of  peace,  nor  was  it  kindled  at  the 
torch  of  love.  He  had  none  of  those  tender  re- 
lentings  towards  Naomi  prompted  by  the  mem 
ory  of  lovely  daughters  or  sweet  grandchildren. 
He  regarded  her  comely  beauty  as  a  snare  of  the 


408  NAOMI. 

Evil  One,  spread,  perhaps,  even  for  him.  His 
only  answer,  frequently  repeated,  till  it  came  to 
be  a  proverb,  when  asked  what  they  should  do 
with  the  Quakers,  and  those  who  favored  them, 
was,  —  "  Send  them  back  to  hell,  the  place  from 
which  they  came  !  " 

The  first  question  that  this  iron-hearted  tribu 
nal  put  to  Naomi  was  suggested  by  the  tender 
ness  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wilson,  hoping  to  suggest 
to  her  an  excuse  for  one  of  the  charges  brought 
against  her,  that  of  not  joining  the  family  prayers 
of  her  step-father  in  the  morning  ;  but  it  only 
served  to  mislead.  "You  sleep  not  well,  my 
dear  daughter?  "  he  asked. 

Naomi  answered,  somewhat  surprised  at  the 
question,  that  her  sleep  was  unbroken  till  the 
early  dawn,  an  hour  always  precious  to  her ;  and 
she  added,  unconsciously,  —  "I  am  an  early 
riser." 

Mr.  Norton  now  said,  somewhat  hypocritically, 
that  he  had  hoped  broken  and  uneasy  sleep 
obliged  her  to  take  the  morning  hours  for  repose, 
as  she  did  not  join  the  family  worship  of  her 
step-father. 

"No,"  said  Naomi,  "I  have  not  that  excuse  to 
plead.  My  sleep  through  the  night  is  as  though 
wafted  on  downy  wings  to  my  pillow  j  and  I  am 
sometimes  ready  to  say,  perhaps  presumptuously, 
—  (God  giveth  his  beloved  sleep.'  " 


NAOMI.  409 

"  Bat,"  said  Mr.  Norton,  "  this  refreshing  sleep, 
does  it  not  lead  you  to  express  your  gratitude  in 
the  morning,  and  in  the  worship  of  the  family  ?  " 

Naomi  answered,  that  she  hoped  there  was  a 
silent  worship  in  her  heart,  and  an  incense  of 
gratitude,  that  rose  to  the  throne  of  God,  if  not 
fragrant  to  the  perceptions  of  man. 

Mr.  Norton  said,  somewhat  sternly,  that  such 
ideas  and  expectations  were  only  the  nattering 
promises  of  the  Evil  One  to  deceive.  They 
were  held  out  by  the  Devil  to  prevent  simple  and 
sinful  souls  from  doing  what  was  alone  accepta 
ble  to  God,  the  public  offering  of  devotion  and 
gratitude.  Were  not  the  Israelites  commanded, 
in  every  case,  to  bring  the  offering  publicly  and 
lay  it  upon  the  common  altar  ?  The  burnt-offer 
ing,  the  thank-offering,  and  the  peace-offering, 
were  they  not  all  brought  into  the  great  assem 
bly  of  the  people  and  offered  in  public  ?  Even 
the  most  private  and  sacred  domestic  joys  were 
made  the  subject  of  public  gratitude." 

"  But,"  said  Naomi,  "  the  Saviour  ordered  his 
disciples  to  enter  into  the  closet,  and  shut  the 
door,  and  pray  to  the  Father  who  seeth  in  secret  ; 
and  there  is  a  still  more  secret  and  acceptable 
prayer,  that  which  is  breathed  in  the  silent 
heart." 

Naomi  had  very  nearly  uttered  the  most  of- 


410  NAOMI. 

fensive  heresy  of  the  Quakers ;  that  is,  the 
sensible  and  constant  direction  of  the  spirit  of 
God  in  man,  made  known  in  prayer;  but  the 
ministers,  although  they  frowned,  were  to$  intent 
upon  their  own  questions  to  pause  to  censure  her 
at  present. 

The  next  question  was  the  same  put  to  her  in 
the  court  j  a  question  that  should  never  be  asked 
except  in  the  intimacy  of  the  nearest  friendship. 
"  Did  she  believe  herself  in  a  state  of  grace  ? " 
This  insidious  question  was  intended  to  entrap  ; 
for  how  could  so  humble  a  creature  as  Naomi 
have  the  presumption  to  say  she  believed  herself 
a  chosen  child  of  God?  which  was  the  only 
meaning  the  Puritans  attached  to  that  phrase ; 
and  having  joined  the  church,  she  could  not  say 
that  she  was  not  a  subject  of  grace.  She  an 
swered,  however,  modestly,  —  "If  I  am  not, 
God '  can  give  me  grace  j  and  if  I  am,  he  can 
keep  me  in  it." 

These  were  but  leading  questions.  The  three 
great  points  of  denial  that  were  imputed  to  the 
Quakers  were  the  Trinity,  the  Scriptures  as  the 
only  rule  of  life,  and  the  church  as  a  divine  insti 
tution  ;  from  these  was  inferred  the  denial  of  the 
authority  of  the  ministers  and  of  the  rites  of 
baptism  and  the  supper. 

Naomi  had  declared  from  the  beginning  that 


NAOMI.  411 

she  had  no  sympathy  with  the  Quakers  as  dis 
turbers  of  the  church  or  of  the  civil  order.  There 
was  nothing  in  common  between  them,  she  said ; 
her  connection  with  them  was  wholly  acciden 
tal  ;  she  became  involved  with  them,  and  a  pris 
oner  in  the  same  jail,  solely  from  her  interest  in 
Margaret.  But  in  consequence  of  her  solitary 
childhood,  and  the  circumstance  of  living  where 
religious  opinions  were  discussed,  she  had  had 
her  mind  excited  upon  subjects,  with  which 
young  women  rarely  trouble  themselves,  and  had 
been  so  happy  as  to  find  all  doubts  removed. 

To  the  question,  whether  she  denied  the  Trini 
ty,  she  did  not  presume,  she  answered,  to  decide 
upon  a  subject  so  much  beyond  her  powers  of 
comprehension  ;  but  was  willing  to  submit  her 
belief  to  those  learned  men  who  had  investigated 
this  incomprehensible  dogma  of  the  church. 

This  answer  was  not  satisfactory ;  still,  it 
could  not  be  called  heresy.  Mr.  Wilson  com 
mended  her  humility,  and  asked,  in  the  same 
breath,  —  "  Did  she  believe  in  the  Scriptures  as 
the  only  rule  of  faith  and  practice  ?  " 

There  was  an  earlier  light,  she  thought ;  the 
light  in  the  soul,  that  spoke  to  the  prophets  of 
old,  and  "  now  whispers  to  the  willing  mind." 

There  was  a  quick  exchange  of  glances  by 
her  inquisitors,  a  murmur  of  disapprobation. 


412  NAOMI. 

"  The  spirit  is  the  guide  that  leads  to  truth," 
added  Naomi,  "  whether  it  be  the  truth  contained 
in  the  Bible  or  an  earlier  truth  dwelling  in  every 
heart." 

"  Is  not  the  Bible,  then,  the  fountain  of  all 
truth,  —  of  all  religion  ?  " 

"  The  Bible,"  said  Naomi,  modestly,  "  appears 
to  me,  not  religion  itself,  but  to  contain  the  rec 
ords  of  a  formal  and  ceremonial  religion.  If  the 
Scriptures  were  the  only  rule  of  life,  what  were 
those  saints  who  lived  before  the  Scriptures 
were  known  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  then,"  said  one  of  the  elders,  "  you 
deny  the  Protestant  church  to  be  the  only  true 
church." 

Naomi  was  silent.  This  was  the  point  which 
to  deny  was  the  damnable  sin  of  heresy.  The 
question,  in  its  simplicity,  was  merely  this, — 
"  Would  she  submit  herself  to  the  rule  of  this 
church,  implicitly  believe  its  dogmas,  or  listen 
to  the  inspiration  of  conscience  in  her  own 
heart  ?  " 

Naomi  was  silent ;  for  she  felt  that  the  answer 
to  the  question  was  the  turning-point  in  her 
destiny.  She  could  not  lie,  and  here  she  must 
be  lost.  Here  was  the  church  itself,  in  its  min 
isters  and  elders,  arrayed  in  power  and  authority, 
furnished  with  learned  dogmas,  the  prescription 


NAOMI.  413 

of  ages,  opposed  to  a  simple,  unlettered  girl. 
She  felt  the  terrible  inequality,  and  did  not  an 
swer  till  the  question  was  repeated. 

Naomi  had  become  very  pale,  but  she  an 
swered,  in  a  firm  voice,  —  "  Although  I  esteem 
the  learning,  and  wisdom,  and  piety  of  the 
church,  yet,  in  things  belonging  only  to  God 
and  myself,  I  must  live  by  the  light  which  God 
has  given  me,  although  it  be  but  a  rush-light 
in  comparison  with  the  shining  lights  of  the 
church  ;  I  must  live  by  my  own  faith,  not  that 
of  the  church.  The  laws  of  men  are  but  the 
injunctions  of  mortals ;  but  what  the  spirit  dic 
tates  is  the  voice  from  heaven  within  us." 

"  And  you,"  said  Mr.  Norton,  "  you,  an  un 
learned  woman,  one  of  the  babes  of  the  church 
(if,  indeed,  you  belong  at  all  to  the  church), 
—  you  oppose  your  own  judgment  against  the 
teachers  and  elders  of  the  church.  You  light 
your  rush-light,  kindled  by  the  spark  of  vanity, 
fed  with  the  oil  of  spiritual  pride,  and,  though 
obscured  by  the  thick  smoke  of  ignorance,  you 
hold  it  up  in  opposition  to  the  golden  candle 
stick,  the  lights  that  shine  like  stars  in  the 
church." 

"  But,"  said  Naomi,  "  if  I  must  find  my  own 
way  through  the  dark  providences  of  God,  if  I 
must  live  by  the  light  that  is  shed  on  the  diffi- 


414 


NAOMI. 


cult  passages  of  private  duty,  the  light  that  I 
carry  in  my  own  hand,  however  small  and  faint, 
will  keep  my  feet  from  stumbling  far  better  than 
the  more  distant,  however  glaring,  lights  of  the 
church." 

Hard  and  dry  reasoners  never  feel  what  is 
touching  in  the  simple-minded ;  and  Mr.  Norton, 
opposed  by  the  true  simplicity  of  Naomi's  char 
acter,  was  pale  with  anger.  He  who  had  writ 
ten  in  Latin  the  learned  account  of  church  dis 
cipline  in  New  England,  he  who  modelled  the 
Cambridge  platform  of  church  government,  was 
confronted  by  a  young  girl, — modest,  indeed, 
and  unassuming  in  the  expression,  but  calm  and 
firm  in  the  support,  of  her  opposition.  His  anger 
was  seen  through  the  working  of  his  pale,  sharp 
features.  "  It  is  the  spirit  of  pride,  of  an  un 
converted  soul,  that  dictates  this  arrogant  differ 
ence  from  your  spiritual  teachers,"  he  said  j  and 
he  rose  as  though  he  were  going  to  quit  all  and 
leave  them  to  their  darkness. 

"  Rather,"  said  one  of  the  dark -browed  elders, 
"  it  comes  rather  from  the  father  of  lies,  the 
Devil,  who  has  entered  into  the  soul  of  this 
young  girl,  comely  though  she  be,  to  deceive  us, 
and  to  entice  us  to  excuse  her  heresies  and  lies. 
My  advice  is,  that  we  proceed  with  the  utmost 
severity  in  this  case,  and  crush  at  once  the  brood 
of  the  serpent  by  the  utmost  rigor  of  the  law." 


NAOMI.  415 

Naomi  had  hitherto  borne  herself  bravely. 
She  was  morally  courageous,  but  she  possessed 
that  tenderness  of  temperament  that  a  rude  or 
harsh  word  could  instantly  put  down  and  crush. 
She  kept  back  the  tears  that  swelled  her  breast 
and  trembled  upon  her  eyelids,  and  said,  firmly, 
that  she  declined  to  answer  any  further  questions 
this  day.  The  gentlemen  could  draw  what  in 
ferences  they  pleased,  but  she  conceived  they 
had  not  the  power  to  compel  her  to  answer 
further. 

The  reader  must  not  suppose  that  Naomi's  ex 
amination  ended  here.  Ah,  no !  It  was  pro 
tracted  through  many  wearisome  days.  She 
was  examined  in  all  the  dogmas  of  Calvinism, 
dogmas  at  this  day  revolting  to  common  sense, 
and  to  all  those  natural  feelings  that  had  seemed 
to  Naomi  like  the  inspirations  of  a  higher  power. 
She  could  not  deny  these  inspirations.  To  her 
uninformed  spirit,  they  took  the  form  of  revela 
tions  from  God.  In  nothing  else  did  she  hold 
any  faith  in  common  with  the  Quakers,  but  the 
various  tenets  of  Calvinism,  as  held  by  our  fa 
thers,  seemed  to  her  little  less  than  blasphemies 
and  curses.  Let  me  not  be  misunderstood ;  the 
most  humble  and  earnest  souls  may  hold  these 
dogmas,  —  souls  that  are  daily  fed  with  charity 
and  prayer,  and  filled  to  overflowing  with  tender, 


416  NAOMI. 

human  love  ;  but  their  faith,  their  tenets,  are  no 
part  of  themselves. 

From  one  of  these  stern  Calvinists  is  taken 
the  tender  blossom,  the  last  that  had  expanded 
upon  the  rough  plant,  —  an  infant,  unbaptized 
and  unconverted.  The  parent's  creed  condemns 
that  child  to  eternal  flames  ;  but  in  the  family 
it  is  remembered  as  the  angel  visitant,  short  in 
its  tarry,  but  leaving  behind  the  fragrance  of 
heaven.  Its  little  birth-place,  its  cradle,  is  a 
shrine  where  are  gathered  all  tender  memories  ; 
and  to  the  other  children,  this  is  the  little  saint 
who  blessed  the  dwelling,  and  to  meet  whom 
in  heaven  is  the  reward  of  exertion  and  of  good 
ness. 

The  examination  of  Naomi  by  the  committee 
of  the  church  did  not  help  her  cause  with  the 
people,  —  scarcely  with  her  nearest  friends.  The 
crime  for  which  she  was  arraigned  was  a  humane 
and  generous  fault ;  but  heresy  was  a  secret  and 
terrible  taint,  feared  as  it  was  unknown.  Her 
step-father  was  incapable  of  understanding  the 
conscientious  scruples  that  governed  Naomi,  and 
would  it  not  have  compromised  his  high  charac 
ter  in  the  church,  —  would  it  not  have  drawn 
suspicion  on  his  orthodoxy  to  move  in  her  cause  ? 
Faith,  also,  could  scarcely  understand  why  Nao 
mi,  as  she  was  not  a  Quaker,  should  differ  from 


NAOMI.  417 

the  church.  The  church  she  thought  good 
enough  for  any  one,  and  surely  Naomi  was  good 
enough  for  the  church.  Why,  then,  should  they 
differ?  Still,  her  favorite  could  not  be  wrong, 
and  all  her  energies  were  at  work  to  reestablish 
Naomi,  to  obtain  her  acquittal. 

Had  it  been  summer,  how  easily  could  she  have 
escaped !  With  the  assistance  of  her  brave  little 
horse,  she  could  have  been  in  a  few  hours  within 
the  borders  of  Rhode  Island,  at  that  time  the 
refuge  for  exiles  for  conscience'  sake.  But  it  was 
the  dead,  or  rather  the  depth,  of  winter;  the 
snow  lay  deep  upon  the  ground,  the  dark  and 
gloomy  sky  foretold  that  more  was  gathered 
there  ready  to  fall,  and  the  winds  seemed  only  to 
lie  hushed  over  the  leaden-colored  waves  of  the 
bay,  ready  to  curl  up  their  giant  billows  like 
terrible  barriers  against  escape  by  sea.  The 
troubled  sea-gulls  spread  their  white  wings  over 
the  land,  as  though  driven  for  a  moment  to  take 
shelter  there,  and  then  soared  away  again  into 
the  dim  regions  of  darkness  and  storms. 

The  heavens  presented  strange  and  alarming 
aspects  ;  portentous  burning  stars  appeared  in  the 
sky ;  angry  meteors  shook  their  lances  over  the 
devoted  little  town  ;  comets  darted  through  the 
lurid  nights  j  "  the  sun  was  said  to  set  in  streams 
of  blood,  and  the  moon  to  cast  no  shadow ;  ter- 
27 


418  NAOMI. 

rible  noises  were  heard  in  the  air;  thunders 
without  clouds,  and  lightnings  without  rain ; 
strange  shapes  of  coffins  and  hearses  were  seea 
in  the  sky ;  armies  contending  with  each  other 
in  bloody  battles  ;  and  angels  and  devils  fight 
ing  for  the  souls  of  men."  *  The  minds  of  the 
inhabitants  were  wrapped  in  gloom.  These 
were  the  signs  of  God's  wrath  against  them  for 
permitting  the  Quakers  to  live ;  while  the 
Quakers  interpreted  these  signs  and  wonders  as 
the  threatenings  of  God's  anger  against  their 
persecutors. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  lingering  reluctance  to 
pass  sentence  against  Naomi.  No  shadow  of 
doubt  rested  upon  her  guilt.  She  had,  without 
the  consent  of  her  step-father,  sheltered  and 
comforted  a  well-known  Quaker.  She  had  been 
once  in  a  house  where  Quakers  were  assembled 
for  their  worship  j  and  she  had  aided  a  convicted 
Quaker  to  escape  from  justice.  These  were  of 
fences  for  any  one  of  which  the  penalty  of  the 
law  was  precise  and  severe.  Heavy  fines,  the 
loss  of  the  ears,  boring  of  the  tongue,  whipping, 
and  imprisonment,  even  the  last  penalty  of  guilt 
and  crime,  had  been  exacted  for  less  offences  ; 
but  in  the  eyes  of  her  examiners  and  judges, 

*  The  annals  of  the  time  recount  all  these  signs  and  wonders 
in  the  heavens. 


NAOMI.  419 

these  were  not  her  heaviest  crimes.  The  plague- 
spot  was  not  in  these  open,  outside  offences.  It 
was  the  taint  of  heresy,  the  sin  of  daring  to 
think  for  herself,  the  unpardonable  crime  of 
daring  to  differ  from  the  church  in  opinion, 
the  non-submission  of  her  own  mind  to  the 
minds  of  her  ministers  and  judges,  that  con 
demned  Naomi,  and  took  her  from  under  the 
shadow  of  the  white  wings  of  mercy. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

"  Of  her  visage  children  were  sore  afear'd." 

PERMIT  me,  my  courteous  reader,  to  change  the 
scene,  and  to  introduce  you  for  a  short  half-hour 
into  an  obscure  and  dark  tenement,  somewhere 
in  the  north  part  of  the  town,  near  a  cove  or 
landing-place  for  fishing-boats,  where,  upon  all 
but  moonlight  evenings,  various  old,  repaired, 
and  crazy  boats  were  drawn  up  and  secured 
upon  the  narrow  beach  of  mud  and  sand.  Ex 
actly  upon  high-water  mark  there  stood  a  small 
tenement,  the  front  of  which  was  a  dark  and 
dingy  shop,  where  sailors  and  fishermen  could 
always  find  the  solace  of  a  glass  of  spirits,  or  a 
mug  of  cider  or  beer,  tobacco  for  their  pipes, 
and  even  necessary  articles  for  more  essential 
service,  while  a  small  wooden  counter  was  cov 
ered  with  wooden  and  leaden  measures,  from  a 
quart  pot  descending  to  half  a  gill.  This  little 
dark  space,  like  the  cabin  of  the  smallest  vessel, 
and  so  low  that  a  man  could  scarcely  stand  up 
right,  was  hung  round  with  sailors'  trousers, 
baize  shirts,  and  tarpaulins ;  and  pipes,  wherever 


NAOMI.  421 

there  was  an  inch  of  room,  were  suspended 
upon  brackets. 

The  tenant  of  this  place  of  humble  entertain 
ment,  where  the  wet  and  shivering  sailor  could 
always  find  the  small  creature  comforts  he  craved, 
was  an  old  and  crippled  woman,  who  had  seen 
nearly  eighty  winters.  Her  pale,  emaciated  vis 
age  had  worn  so  long  the  expression  of  craft, 
that  it  seemed  to  have  wrinkled  and  stiffened 
into  a  grotesque  mask  of  mildewed  lead,  but 
still  she  possessed,  even  at  this  great  age,  the 
power  of  removing  all  expression  from  her  feat 
ures,  and  giving  them  the  fixedness  of  death. 
Her  hair,  bleached  to  the  whiteness  of  snow, 
was  drawn  back  under  a  hood  of  rusty  black 
velvet ;  yet  there  was  enough  visible  to  form  a 
striking  contrast  to  bushy  eyebrows  as  black  as 
jet,  and  a  slight  mustache  at  each  corner  of  her 
shrivelled  lips  of  the  same  color. 

It  was  a  dark  and  stormy  evening,  immediately 
after  Naomi's  trial,  and  before  the  sentence  had 
been  pronounced ;  the  hour  was  past  nine,  and 
the  little  shop  was  closed  for  the  night  j  the  old 
woman,  whom  we  shall  call  Mother  Bunyan, 
was  seated  by  the  chimney  of  the  low,  sloping 
room  that  formed  the  back  part  of  this  tenement. 
Her  labors  for  the  day  were  over,  and  she  was 
solacing  herself  with  a  pipe,  and  preparing  what 


422  NAOMI. 

she  called  her  nightcap,  a  mug  of  strong  beer, 
heated  by  quenching  in  the  hissing  liquor  the 
red-hot  tongs.  A  knock  at  the  shop-door  did 
not  startle  the  old  woman,  for  she  was  accus 
tomed  to  nocturnal  visits.  The  snow,  as  she 
saw  by  the  one  pane  forming  a  light  for  her  den, 
was  falling  fast,  and  had  completely  whitened 
the  little  window,  and  she  bid  the  visitors  enter. 
Two  muffled  figures  came  through  the  shop,  en 
veloped  in  cloaks,  under  which  one  of  them  car 
ried  a  dark  lantern.  The  room  was  enlightened 
only  partially  by  the  glimmering  embers  of  burnt- 
out  logs,  so  that,  when  the  slide  was  turned,  a 
strong  Rembrandt  light  was  thrown  upon  the 
cloaked  figures,  bringing  into  relief  the  white 
wool  that  circled  Sambo's  dark  features,  and  the 
brilliant  eyes,  but  somewhat  pale  features,  of  his 
master's  daughter,  Ruth. 

The  old  woman  manifested  no  surprise  ;  she 
was  accustomed  to  the  visits  of  the  young,  even 
at  these  late  hours,  and  without  rising  she  called 
to  Ruth,  and  pointed  to  a  low  seat.  "  Come  here, 
my  lamb,"  she  said,  "  and  warm  your  poor  little 
hands  "  ;  for  Ruth  was  shaking  with  cold  and 
fear.  She  then  signed  to  Sambo  to  put  down 
his  lantern  and  wait  in  the  shop,  for  she  inferred 
at  once  and  with  truth  that  Ruth's  business  was 
private.  Poor  Sambo  obeyed ;  it  had  been  the 


NAOMI.  423 

business  of  his  life  to  obey,  and,  beside  this  in 
stinct  of  obedience,  he  had  no  wish  and  no  will 
to  refuse  any  order  whatever  from  mistress  Ruth. 
When,  therefore,  she  ordered  him  to  come  with 
her  to-night,  he  only  besought  that  it  might  be 
after  prayers,  lest  he  should  be  summoned,  and 
his  aid  in  what  he  knew  would  mortally  offend, 
not  his  master,  but  Faith,  betrayed.  Ruth  also 
was  glad  to  put  off  her  nocturnal  walk  till  after 
prayers,  lest  they  might  be  recognized  in  the 
street,  perhaps  detained,  and  missed  at  the  ap 
pointed  hour. 

I  have  mentioned  before,  that  Ruth  was  an 
intrepid  and  self-willed  girl,  but  this  walk  through 
the  snow  of  a  stormy  night,  after  the  bell  had 
tolled  nine,  required  all  her  courage.  She  was, 
however,  now  here  at  the  confessional  with  the 
old  sibyl,  or  the  dark  priestess  of  the  future,  and 
she  was  determined  not  to  be  baulked  of  her 
object.  She  passed  more  than  half  an  hour  in 
secret  conversation  with  the  old  woman,  when 
she  called  to  Sambo  and  bade  him  take  the  lan 
tern  to  accompany  her  home.  Upon  the  way 
home,  Ruth  leaned  upon  the  arm  of  poor  old 
Sambo,  who  tottered  with  age,  and  cold,  and 
fear.  Sambo  ventured  once  to  ask  if  old 
Witch  Bunyan  had  promised  her  good  luck, 
but  Ruth  was  silent,  and  when  she  reached  the 


424  NAOMI. 

door,  she  bade  him  good  night  in  a  whisper,  and 
crept  to  her  chamber.  She  need  not  have  feared 
being  shut  out ;  in  these  primitive  times  there 
were  neither  locks  nor  bolts ;  the  latch  was  easily 
lifted,  but  the  inmates  were  safe.  Did  Ruth 
sleep  soundly  ?  Ah,  yes  !  for  the  light-hearted 
and  innocent,  those  who  scarcely  need  the  sol 
ace  of  "  nature's  sweet  restorer,  balmy  sleep," 
easily  "  knit  up  the  ravelled  sleeve  of  care." 

To  return  to  her  who  I  would  fain  hope  has 
excited  the  interest  of  my  readers.  Naomi  pined 
in  her  solitary  cell,  waiting  for  her  sentence, 
passing  wearily  the  dark  and  gloomy  days  of 
winter,  and  the  long,  long  nights  of  the  winter 
solstice,  wearing  away  the  heavy  hours  in  short 
and  broken  slumbers,  or  in  long  seasons  of  wake- 
fulness  ;  for  Naomi  had  been  accustomed  to  a  life 
of  activity,  and  to  pass  much  of  the  day  in 
healthful  exercise.  The  sudden  and  total  change 
from  a  life  of  active  and  perpetual  employment 
to  one  of  sedentary  and  quiet  indolence,  to  whole 
days,  and  weeks,  and  months  of  miserable  pac 
ing  of  the  eight  feet  of  her  prison,  had  caused 
an  unnatural  activity  of  the  mind,  an  extreme 
excitement  of  the  nervous  system,  so  that  sleep 
was  sometimes  for  whole  nights  long  a  stranger 
to  her  eyelids.  It  was  in  vain  that  she  made 
every  occupation  of  her  day  methodical  and 


NAOMI.  425 

exact,  that  she  attained  a  strict  governance  of 
her  thoughts,  so  that  no  anxious  nor  exciting 
memories  should  haunt  her  pillow  ;  in  vain  that 
she  committed  the  purity  of  her  soul  to  the 
guardianship  of  angels,  and  resigned  the  whole 
of  her  future  to  the  love  and  wisdom  of  her 
Heavenly  Father.  Again  and  again  would  Na 
omi  exclaim,  — 

"  O  sleep,  O  gentle  sleep  ! 
Nature's  soft  nurse,  how  have  I  frighted  thee, 
That  thou  no  more  wilt  weigh  my  eyelids  down, 
And  steep  my  senses  in  forgetfulness  ?  " 

The  loss  of  sleep  induced  a  general  lassitude 
and  irritability  of  the  nervous  system,  harder  to 
bear  than  real  and  dangerous  illness.  It  was  in 
vain  that  she  strove  against  it.  Naomi's  heart 
was  high  and  courageous,  but  the  delicate  struc 
ture  of  the  nerves,  weakened  by  this  long-con 
tinued  wakefulness,  was  attenuated  and  wearied, 
and  often  Naomi  found  herself  melted  to  tears, 
without  any  new  or  apparent  cause  for  this 
weakness. 

She  had  passed  a  long  and  gloomy  evening 
without  a  light  —  for  the  jailer's  wife  had  forgot 
ten  to  bring  it  —  in  alternate  efforts  to  keep  back, 
and  in  momentary  yieldings  to,  her  tears,  when 
suddenly  the  door  was  opened,  and  the  little 
daughter  of  the  jailer  ushered  in  a  bent  and  ap- 


426  NAOMI. 

parently  crippled  old  woman,  who  supported  her 
self  with  a  crutch.  Naomi  started,  and  asked 
the  child  where  were  her  parents,  and  how  could 
any  one  gain  admittance  in  defiance  of  the  order 
of  the  magistrates,  forbidding  access  to  the  pris 
oners  in  the  jail. 

Patience  replied,  that  her  parents  had  gone 
to  church  meeting,  and  that  the  old  woman  as 
sured  her  she  had  permission  from  the  governor 
himself  to  visit  Naomi. 

"  Say  no  more,"  cried  the  old  woman,  "  I 
come  to  give  ye  comfort  "  ;  and  she  signed  to  the 
girl  to  leave  them. 

Naomi  now  recognized  the  old  woman  of  the 
sailors'  shop,  that  she  had  seen  at  her  step-fa 
ther's  door,  and  that  Faith  sometimes  in  the 
severity  of  the  winter  had  visited,  to  inquire  if 
she  were  starving  or  freezing.  I  did  not  inform 
my  readers  at  the  time  of  Ruth's  almost  mid 
night  visit  of  the  bad  reputation  she  sustained 
in  the  colony.  It  was  whispered  about,  although 
not  in  the  ears  of  the  ministers,  that  she  made 
use  of  many  vile  and  secret  practices,  but  not  to 
get  her  living,  for  at  that  time,  in  the  little  com 
munity  of  Boston,  honest  poverty  was  never  al 
lowed  to  suffer.  This  old  woman  was  said  to 
pretend  to  a  knowledge  of  the  secrets  of  futu 
rity.  It  was  said  that  she  could  restore  lost  arti- 


NAOMI.  427 

cles  ;  reveal  the  inmost  secrets  of  the  soul  to 
him  who  sought  the  hidden  mystery  ;  that  she 
could  give  the  lover  favor  in  the  eyes  of  his 
mistress,  and  cause  the  expectant  heir  to  rejoice 
in  the  death  of  the  miser.  In  short,  she  was 
the  Mrs.  Turner  of  New  England,  ready  for  any 
nefarious  and  dirty  work.  It  may  seem  strange 
to  my  readers  that  such  a  character  should  be 
permitted  to  exist  in  the  little  Puritan  commu 
nity  of  Boston.  Human  nature  is  the  same ;  and 
the  desire  to  pry  into  the  secrets  of  futurity,  to 
believe  in  the  agency  of  the  Evil  One,  that  be 
longed  to  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centu 
ries,  was  not  excluded  from  any  spot  on  the 
globe.  The  ministers  would  not  have  permitted 
a  witch  to  live,  and  this  very  old  woman  was, 
not  many  months  after  this  period,  banished  from 
Boston  on  pain  of  death. 

Naomi,  in  the  weak  and  irritable  state  of  her 
nerves,  merely  said,  —  "  You  come  without  per 
mission,  and  I  desire  that  you  would  immediately 
leave  me." 

"  I  come,"  she  answered,  "  to  give  you  free 
dom.  Listen  only  to  what  I  say,  and  before 
twenty-four  hours  you  shall  be  in  safety." 

"  What  would  you  say  ?  "  asked  Naomi. 

"  Look  into  your  own  heart,"  said  the  woman  ; 
"  who  fills  it  at  this  moment  ?  of  whom  were 


428  NAOMI. 

you  thinking  when  I  opened  the  door  ?  Where 
do  you  turn  your  eyes  whenever  you  go  to  that 
little  window  ?  Whose  shadow  do  you  follow 
in  the  sunlight  and  in  the  moonlight  ?  " 

"  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  answer,"  said 
Naomi,  "if  you  can  thus  read  my  heart." 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  you  can  count 
the  pulsations  of  your  own  heart,  and  I  can  tell 
you  that  where  one  throb  of  joy  beats  in  yours, 
it  is  answered  with  a  throb  of  anguish  in  hers ; 
a  young  heart,  too,  that  you  are  bound  to  guard 
from  pain,  that  you  have  vowed  to  protect  at  the 
expense  of  your  own  happiness." 

"  Hers  ?  "  said  Naomi.  "  What  do  you  mean, 
old  woman  ?  What  do  you  come  to  tell  me  ?  " 
and  all  color  left  Naomi's  face,  and  she  remained 
pale  as  death. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  old  woman,  "  I  did  but  give 
voice  to  your  own  thought.  I  touched  the 
chord,  and  your  own  soul  returns  the  sound." 

I  have  before  hinted  at  the  rumors  that  had 
been  current  ever  since  the  journey  when  Wal 
ton  snatched  Ruth  from  the  swollen  river  at  the 
moment  she  was  sinking,  that  her  young  heart 
had  beat  only  for  him,  and  that  Mr.  Aldersey 
had  observed  it,  and  would  fain  reward  him  with 
her  hand  and  with  Naomi's  fortune.  Naomi, 
too,  although  no  word  of  this  had  been  whis- 


NAOMI.  429 

pered  to  her,  had  observed,  whenever  Ruth  vis 
ited  her  in  the  prison,  a  change  in  the  young 
girl,  —  frequent  blushes  and  sighs,  and  a  covert 
but  constant  desire  to  lead  the  conversation  to, 
and  to  dwell  on,  Herbert  Walton.  Naomi  could 
not  and  did  not  admit  the  thought,  but  now,  when 
it  was  mentioned  by  another,  a  flash  of  light  il 
lumined  her  whole  mind. 

"  And  who  has  bid  you,"  asked  Naomi,  "  to 
come  here  and  wound  me  with  suspicions  that 
can  only  add  to  my  distress  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  come  to  wound,"  said  the  old 
woman  with  a  malicious  smile  ;  "I  came  to  give 
you  freedom,  —  freedom  before  that  sun  sets 
again,  will  you  only  accept  it." 

Naomi  was  silent.  She  knew  some  condition 
was  annexed  to  this  offer  of  freedom.  She 
scarcely  wished  to  know  what,  and  she  was 
silent. 

The  old  woman  fixed  her  stony  eyes  upon  her 
with  that  look  from  which  all  expression  was 
withdrawn.  "  You  know,"  she  said,  "  that  you 
are  condemned  to  death."  Naomi  started.  "At 
least  your  death  is  determined  on,  if  not  yet 
made  known.  One  sentence  only  is  possible 
for  you,  —  the  rope  that  served  Mary  Dyer  will 
do  for  you.  You  are  heavier  than  that  old  wo 
man  ;  but  it  was  not  stretched  too  much  by  her 


430  NAOMI. 

poor,  emaciated  body,  and  it  will  do  for  you. 
Freedom  I  can  promise  you,  —  freedom,  assured 
by  a  powerful  friend.  You  have  only  to  consent 
to  go  on  board  a  vessel  that  is  now  in  the  stream. 
To-morrow  evening  the  door  will  be  opened  by 
a  powerful  hand,  — a  person  who  will  insure  you 
from  molestation." 

"  And  what  previous  sacrifice  is  demanded  of 
me  ?  "  asked  Naomi. 

The  old  woman  came  close  to  her,  and  whis 
pered,  in  a  loud  and  hissing  whisper,  in  her  ear, 
—  "  You  have  only  to  write  a  letter  to  Herbert 
Walton,  renouncing  him  for  ever,  and  urging 
him  to  love  and  marry  your  little  sister  Ruth." 

"  Begone,  fiend,"  said  Naomi,  "  and  never 
again  darken  my  prison  door  !  Of  what  value, 
think  you,  would  life  be  to  me  after  such  a  re 
nunciation  ?  Let  death  come  the  next  hour,  it 
would  be  as  welcome  as  the  new-born  babe  to 
its  mother." 

The  old  woman  had  retreated  a  few  steps, 
and  sat  down  with  the  same  unmoved  and  stony 
expression.  She  was  like  some  great  instrument 
of  torture,  that  utters  its  mechanical  groan  and 
does  its  work,  were  it  to  wring  a  limb  or  pierce 
a  heart,  and  then  is  still  till  the  next  turn  of  the 
wheel  gives  another  thrust. 

Naomi  was  neither  taken  by  surprise,  nor  was 


NAOMI.  431 

she  appalled  and  thrown  off  her  guard  by  the 
weakness  of  her  nerves.  The  moment  she  re 
flected,  she  knew  the  object  of  the  old  woman 
was  not  to  propose  flight  to  her,  but  to  frighten 
her  into  some  concession  or  renunciation  that 
would  favor  her  step-father's  views  upon  Herbert, 
by  presenting  to  her,  in  the  weakened  state  of 
her  mind,  the  only  alternative,  —  a  horrible  death, 
or  flight.  But  she  knew  well  that  the  magis 
trates  would  not  venture  upon  another  execu 
tion,  especially  that  of  a  woman,  and  that  she 
would  herself  gain  nothing  by  flight ;  flight  it 
self  was  banishment,  and  a  legal  banishment  was 
no  more  terrible  to  her  than  one  enforced  by  fear 
and  flight.  But  it  fell  upon  her  heart  with  the 
heaviness  of  lead,  that  the  object  of  this  visit 
was  to  intimidate,  and  induce  her  to  fall  into 
the  plan,  already  ripened,  to  detach  Herbert  from 
her,  to  work  upon  her  generous  and  sisterly 
feelings,  and  induce  her  to  renounce  all  claims 
in  favor  of  Ruth.  She  perceived  that  a  pow 
erful  enemy  was  at  the  root  of  the  plot,  and 
that  enemy  her  step-father.  Who  else  could 
have  assured  her  of  an  immediate  and  unmolest 
ed  flight  ?  Who  else  had  influence  to  overcome 
the  scruples  of  the  jailer,  and  set  open  the  pris 
on  doors  ? 

Naomi,  as  I  have  said  before,  was  humble,  and 


432  NAOMI. 

the  terrible  course  of  discipline  she  had  gone 
through  had  served  to  increase  her  self-distrust. 
At  this  moment,  this  painful  self-distrust  took 
possession  of  her  mind,  and  caused  her  to  wrong 
in  thought  the  truest  and  most  faithful  heart.  She 
raised  her  head  at  length,  and  said,  —  "  You  bid 
me  advise  Herbert  to  forget  me,  and  to  love  my 
sister  ;  think  you  that  forgetfulness  is  so  easy, 
and  that  love  can  come  and  go  at  command  of 
the  will  ?  » 

The  old  woman  came  again  close  to  Naomi, 
and  hissed  in  her  ear,  —  "I  have  means  that  never 
failed  ;  I  can  make  the  mother  forget  the  babe  of 
her  womb,  and  the  bridegroom  forget  the  bride 
that  was  only  yesterday  his  own." 

"  Then,"  said  Naomi,  immediately  recovering 
the  full  powers  of  her  reason  and  intellect,  "  then 
you  need  no  concurrence  of  mine.  Begone, 
fiend,  and  never  again  disturb  the  solitary  hours 
of  one  who  defies  you  !  " 

At  this  moment  the  door  was  opened  by  the 
jailer's  wife.  So  little  surprise  was  manifested 
at  the  sight  of  the  old  woman,  that  Naomi  could 
not  help  suspecting  that  the  concurrence  of  the 
wife  at  least,  in  this  intrusive  visit,  had  been  pre 
viously  obtained. 

And  how  was  it  with  Herbert  during  this  plot 
against  his  happiness  ?  Was  he  left  personally 


NAOMI.  433 

unmolested  ?  Mr.  Aldersey  ventured  once,  and 
once  only,  to  lift  the  veil  from  the  cloistered  and 
vestal  sanctuary  where  Naomi  dwelt,  as  in  a  holy 
shrine  ;  but  he  was  met  with  so  stern  and  so 
determined  a  rebuke,  that  the  crafty  man  of 
forms  found  upright  and  straightforward  ingen 
uousness  more  than  a  match  for  wily  and  con 
cealed  hypocrisy. 

Naomi's  sentence  could  be  delayed  no  longer. 
She  had  been  three  months  a  prisoner,  and  Jan 
uary  was  drawing  to  a  close.  It  was  the  very 
heart  of  the  winter,  and  the  horrors  of  banish 
ment  by  sea  or  land  could  scarcely  be  increased. 
The  usual  sentence  against  the  Quakers  was  ban 
ishment  in  twenty-four  hours,  or  the  utmost  ex 
tremity  of  the  law.*  This  was  all  that  could 
be  wrung  from  the  tender  mercies  of  the  judges 
in  their  sentence  against  Naomi,  —  banishment  in 
twenty-four  hours  fro'm  the  time,  not  of  her  re 
ceiving  the  sentence,  but  from  the  time  of  its 
being  promulgated, — publicly  declared  through 
the  mouth  of  the  hangman.  Should  physical 
debility,  the  tenderness  of  a  feminine  nature,  or 
the  frailty  of  a  too  delicate  constitution,  cause 
her  to  linger  to  breathe  the  air  of  New  England 

*  See  the  records  of  the  General  Court  in  the  State-house, 
Boston. 

28 


434  NAOMI. 

beyond  the  prescribed  moment,  death  was  inev 
itable  ;  the  atmosphere  of  New  England  was 
deadly  to  a  condemned  Quaker. 

Naomi  had  been  informed  of  her  sentence, 
and  permitted  to  return  to  her  step-father's  house, 
guarded,  however,  by  constables  till  the  moment 
of  her  embarkation.  The  evening  was  closing 
in,  and  in  sad  and  tearful  rejoicing  the  few  friends 
who  remained  faithful  to  Naomi  were  pressing 
around  her ;  Faith  and  the  attached  servants, 
Ruth,  too,  —  who  loved  her  sister  as  a  light  na 
ture  loves,  and  Naomi  looked  upon  her  with  the 
pitying  love  of  an  angel,  —  all  were  gathered 
around  to  listen  to  the  words  of  patience  and 
hope  that  fell  from  her  lips,  and  to  gather  faith 
and  comfort  from  one  who  seemed  incapable  of 
fainting  or  faltering  upon  the  great  path  of  duty ; 
when  suddenly  was  heard  upon  the  night  air, 
now  thick  and  murky  with  the  gathering  storm, 
that  well-known  hollow  sound  of  the  drum,  and 
the  heavy  feet  of  the  procession,  headed  by  the 
constable,  proclaiming  from  street  to  street,  and 
corner  to  corner,  the  sentence  of  Naomi.  They 
stopped  before  the  house  of  Mr.  Aldersey,  and 
every  syllable  of  the  sentence,  sending  the  pain 
of  death  to  the  hearts  of  those  who  listened,  was 
distinctly  heard,  —  "  Banishment  in  twenty-four 
hours  from  that  very  moment,  nine  o'clock,  the 


NAOMI.  435 

24th  of  January."  The  magistrates  had  chosen 
this  hour  in  order  to  strike  terror  into  those  who 
would  favor  the  Quakers.  The  night  was  ex 
tremely  dark,  and  the  procession  was  headed  by 
torches,  whose  lurid  and  murky  flame,  as  they 
passed  from  house  to  house,  glared  into  the  win 
dows,  and  threw  a  sinister  light  upon  peaceful, 
domestic  scenes  of  repast  or  devotion.  As  the 
sounds  died  away  in  the  distance,  the  inhabit 
ants  drew  nearer  to  their  fires,  and,  looking  in 
each  other's  pale  faces,  they  whispered  with  a 
shudder,  —  "  Twenty-four  hours,  and  a  tempest 
gathering  in  the  sky  !  "  —  the  dark  clouds  rolling 
in  from  the  ocean,  the  winds  hushed  together, 
gathering  their  strength  for  the  morrow,  and  the 
threatening  tempest  becoming  every  moment 
more  appalling.  The  exclamations  of  the  people 
were  according  to  the  bitterness  or  the  tender 
ness  of  their  feelings.  Many  exclaimed,  —  "  He 
has  sent  out  his  arrows  and  scattered  them.  He 
has  shot  out  his  lightnings  and  destroyed  them." 
"  They  shall  be  broken  with  a  rod  of  iron.  Thou 
shalt  dash  them  in  pieces  like  a  potter's  vessel." 
The  self-righteous  cried,  —  "  This  is  a  day  of  de 
liverance  to  the  righteous,  a  day  of  pouring  out 
of  wrath  to  the  ungodly.  God  be  praised !  de 
struction  hath  overtaken  his  enemies."  Some  few 


436 


NAOMI. 


of  tenderer  natures,  touched  with  compassion, 
looked  round  with  tearful  eyes  upon  their  chil 
dren,  and  cried,  —  "  God  have  mercy  upon  the 
fatherless  and  the  orphan  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"  Ha !  banishment  ?  be  merciful ;  say  death  ; 
For  exile  hath  more  terror  in  his  look, 
Much  more,  than  death.     Do  not  say  banishment." 

THE  dismal  sound  of  that  drum,  proclaiming 
Naomi's  sentence,  struck  upon  other  ears.  Her 
bert  Walton  heard  it,  and  rushed  stunned  and 
overwhelmed  to  his  home.  He  had  lingered 
fascinated  upon  the  spot,  to  hear  her  doom  pro 
nounced,  and  then  fled,  to  hide  in  a  deeper  soli 
tude  his  unutterable  misery. 

The  stern  and  haggard  expression  of  that 
youthful  countenance,  —  his  complexion,  former 
ly  rich  like  the  brown  hue  of  the  apricot,  now 
ashy  pale,  —  the  gloomy  fire  of  his  eyes,  former 
ly  so  gentle  and  winning,  —  forbade  his  sister  to 
approach  him  with  hope  of  comfort,  or  even  with 
expressions  of  pity.  He  sat  stern,  speechless, 
overwhelmed,  completely  crushed  j  or  he  walked 
the  apartment  with  rapid  strides,  rivers  of  tears 
pouring  over  his  cheeks.  These  alternations  of 
fierce  anguish  or  of  softened  sorrow,  when  the 
memory  of  his  love  and  hope  dissolved  him  in 
tears  of  fond  regret,  or  changed  to  the  agony  of 


438  NAOMI. 

despair,  continued  all  that  night.  His  father  re 
tired  to  pray,  but  his  sister  sat  silently  by  him, 
and  sometimes,  in  moments  of  comparative  calm, 
she  took  his  hand  in  hers.  But  he  shrank  from 
sympathy.  No  ;  he  must  wrestle  with  his  grief 
alone. 

Shakspeare  has  left  an  imperishable  picture  of 
youthful  love,  where  the  misery  of  the  hour  con 
sists  in  banishment.  But  in  those  Southern  im 
aginations,  no  sterner  picture  is  presented  to  Ro 
meo  than  that  of  "  summer  flies  seizing  the 
white  wonder  of  dear  Juliet's  hand,  stealing  im 
mortal  blessings  from  her  lips."  Here  were 
sterner  images.  This,  his  Northern  flower  of 
love  and  happiness,  had  started  up  thus  beautiful 
and  vigorous  amid  the  sterile  soil  of  Calvinism  ; 
it  had  blossomed  in  the  stifled  air  of  imprison 
ment  and  fear  ;  environed  with  thorns,  it  had 
shed  its  sweet  fragrance  upon  the  desert  of  his 
life,  but  now  the  steeled  hand  of  bigotry,  the 
hand  that  could  grasp  unhurt  the  nettle  and  the 
thistle,  had  torn  it  away  and  placed  an  iron  heel 
upon  its  tender  beauty. 

How  did  his  rebellious  heart  rise  in  its  anguish, 
not  only  against  the  authors  of  his  misery,  but 
against  God  himself!  Had  he  been  pleased  to 
hide  her  in  the  grave,  had  he  placed  the  barrier  of 
time  between  them,  Herbert  could  have  imagined 


NAOMI.  439 

her  in  an  angel's  robes,  he  could  have  cherished 
her  as  a  saint  in  memory.  She  would  then  have 
been  his,  his  alone,  in  thought ;  no  earthly  ri 
val  could  intervene  to  rob  him  of  the  certainty 
of  love  beyond  this  world.  But  now  the  vulgar 
barriers  of  earth,  the  waves  of  the  ocean  only, 
would  roll  between  them ;  others  could  look  up 
on  her ;  rivals  would  intervene ;  time,  and  with 
it  change,  would  come,  —  forgetfulness,  ah !  ten 
thousand  times  worse  than  death. 

In  the  midst  of  Walton's  anguish,  reason  did 
not  wholly  desert  him.  It  told  him  that  Naomi 
was  lost  to  him,  but  not  utterly ;  he  could  not 
detain  her,  —  he  could  not  follow  her ;  but  rea 
son  whispered  to  him  that  banishment  was  not 
wholly  death  ;  "  there  was  measure,  limit,  bound, 
to  that  word's  death  "  ;  and,  in  the  extremity  of 
his  misery,  hope  whispered  again  that  years 
might  pass,  and  love  not  die. 

A  mind  like  Herbert's  could  not  long  remain 
a  captive  to  despairing  or  blasphemous  thoughts. 
He  had  within  him  that  well-spring  of  joy  which 
belongs  to  the  poetical  temperament,  and  the  first 
affliction,  however  terrible,  could  not  turn  its 
waters  to  gall.  He  was  not  made  for  suffering. 
I  know  not  how  to  express  my  meaning;  but 
there  are  natures  to  whom  suffering  and  anguish 
are  certain  death  ;  they  are  guarded,  therefore, 


440  NAOMI. 

like  the  tender  shell-fish,  with  a  case  of  ada 
mant.  A  ray  of  light  instantly  dawns  upon  the 
darkness  that  wraps  them.  Like  the  sun  in 
northern  latitudes,  its  rim  does  but  sink  beneath 
the  horizon ;  no  night  comes  upon  the  soul,  but 
only  a  softened  and  soothing  darkness  for  an  in 
stant,  and,  behold !  the  whole  orb  again  is  light. 
Of  them  it  may  be  said,  — "  Sorrow  endureth 
for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning." 

In  the  morning,  hope  had  returned  to  the  soul 
of  Herbert.  He  could  once  more  behold  Naomi, 
and  that  moment  might  be  the  happiest  of  his  life. 

The  morning  was  dark  and  lowering ;  thick 
clouds  hung  low  over  the  horizon,  and  sudden 
gusts  of  wind,  that  blew  the  already  drifted 
snow  into  the  air,  threatened  a  wintry  tempest. 
The  storm,  if  it  came,  would  not  detain  Naomi. 
The  vessel  was  rocking,  anchored  in  the  stream  ; 
and  if  a  boat  could  live,  the  shelter  of  that  ves 
sel  was  Naomi's  refuge. 

When  Herbert  arrived  at  the  house  of  Mr. 
Aldersey,  he  found  the  ministers  there.  In  all 
afflictions,  public  or  domestic,  the  ministers  must 
consecrate  them  with  prayer.  Naomi's  step 
father,  in  his  secret  heart,  was  certainly  not  griev 
ing  at  the  calamity  of  his  step-daughter.  Pub 
licly,  in  the  eyes  of  the  church  and  of  his  fellow- 
citizens,  he  was  the  martyr ;  he  was  the  afflicted 


NAOMI.  441 

one.  Heresy  had  been  found  under  his  roof. 
He  was  thrusting  his  pride-fed,  but  sanctified 
face  forward,  and  saying  to  every  one,  —  "  Pity 
me,  pity  me,  O  my  friends !  for  the  hand  of  the 
Lord  hath  touched  me  "  ;  while  the  real  martyr, 
she  who  had  sacrificed  all  rather  than  lie  to  her 
own  soul,  was  but  a  secondary  object.  The 
lamb  of  the  sacrifice,  indeed,  she  was,  while  the 
priest  and  the  formalist  stood  coldly  or  hypocrit 
ically  by. 

While  the  domestic  services  were  proceeding, 
the  storm  had  increased  to  the  most  terrific 
height.  Sometimes  the  snow  and  rain  mingled 
together  fell  perpendicularly,  and  heaped  itself 
upon  every  door-step  and  upon  every  window- 
sill,  leaving  there  a  virgin  offering  ;  then  a  sud 
den  and  violent  gust  from  the  east  dispersed 
these  heaps  and  mingled  the  snow  that  had  al 
ready  fallen  with  the  descending  sheets,  and  all 
was  a  grand  and  indistinct  mingling  of  the  ele 
ments. 

The  trees  in  the  front  yard  were  already  load 
ed,  and  with  outstretched  arms  looked  like 
sheeted  ghosts,  come  to  repeat  upon  the  exiled 
Naomi  the  sentence  of  banishment  pronounced 
by  living  spirits. 

The  gusts  of  the  storm  rolled  fearfully  in  the 
chimney,  and  shook  the  windows,  as  sheets  of 


442  NAOMI. 

sleet  and  snow  were  hurled  by  the  wind  agamst 
them.  The  few  travellers  in  the  streets  wrapped 
themselves  closely  in  their  cloaks ;  but  from  eve 
ry  turning,  and  from  every  narrow  lane,  came  a 
blast  that  nearly  blinded  them,  and  a  heavy  wind 
that  nearly  laid  them  prostrate. 

As  the  prayers  were  finished,  and  those  assem 
bled  in  that  room  turned  to  look  on  each  other 
for  the  last  time,  every  face  was  pale  with  an 
guish.  The  servants  sobbed,  and  Sambo,  whose 
poor  old  eyes  were  bleared  with  weeping,  tot 
tered  towards  Naomi  and  stood  close  behind  her. 
The  ministers  gave  her  their  mournful,  and  per 
haps,  at  this  moment,  their  relenting  farewell. 
Did  they  recall  the  hour  when,  in  that  very 
room,  scarcely  more  than  a  year  ago,  they  had 
called  her  Naomi  the  beautiful,  and  entreated  her 
never  to  become  flfara  to  them.  They  had  now 
been  praying  to  the  Almighty  that  she  might  not 
be  for  ever  a  castaway,  but  even  at  the  eleventh 
hour  like  a  brand  snatched  from  the  burning. 

Naomi  alone  stood  there  in  all  the  calmness 
and  beauty  of  innocence.  No  tear  dimmed  the 
deep  light  of  her  eye,  and  no  cloud  rested  upon 
her  serene  brow.  "  My  friends,"  she  said,  "  let 
no  regrets  follow  my  departure.  I  would  fain 
believe,  that  what  you  have  done  has  been  done 
for  conscience'  sake.  Let  us  leave  the  issue  with 
God." 


NAOMI.  443 

Mr.  Wilson,  who  had  been  always  secretly  her 
friend,  now  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head,  and 
said,  —  "  The  Lord  forgive  us  if  we  have  done 
thee  wrong,  and  remember  not  our  sins  against 
his  church  and  his  people  !  " 

Mr.  Aldersey's  carriage  was  at  the  side  door, 
waiting  to  convey  Naomi  to  the  boat.  Mr.  Al- 
dersey  himself  was  preparing  to  accompany  her ; 
Faith  also  stood  ready  for  this  last  sorrowful, 
but  short  journey.  Herbert  had  pressed  always 
nearer  and  nearer  to  Naomi.  Their  eyes  had  of 
ten  spoken,  their  hearts  more  often.  Herbert 
preserved  a  calm  exterior,  although  the  tempest 
in  his  breast  was  like  that  which  raged  without. 
Who  does  not  remember  to  have  seen  a  tempest 
raging  with  such  violence,  that  the  surface  of  the 
ocean  has  been  kept  calm  and  the  billows  from 
rising,  —  the  contention  of  waves  and  winds 
keeping  the  surface  smooth  ?  Such  was  the  con 
flict  in  Herbert's  breast,  that  a  stern  and  iron 
calm  appeared  on  the  exterior. 

Naomi  was  ready  to  enter  the  carriage,  but  as 
her  step-father  followed  close  behind,  apparently 
intending  himself  to  render  her  this  last  service, 
she  turned  and  gave  him  one  look.  Whatever 
there  was  in  that  look  that  penetrated  to  his  in 
most  heart,  he  turned,  and,  retreating  to  the  par 
lour,  made  no  effort  to  go  further.  Faith,  with 


444 


NAOMI. 


the  quick  instinct  of  woman,  motioned  to  Her 
bert  to  take  the  vacant  seat.  He  had,  indeed? 
determined  before,  that,  within  or  without,  no 
power  should  separate  him  from  Naomi  till  they 
reached  the  vessel ;  but  now  he  instantly  obeyed, 
and  placed  himself  by  the  side  of  Naomi.  Then, 
and  not  till  then,  their  hands  joined,  and  Faith 
alone  witnessed  the  anguished  joy  of  that  long 
embrace. 

Slowly,  step  by  step,  they  proceeded  to  the 
wharf.  The  streets  were  much  blocked  by 
snow-drifts,  and  at  every  turn  and  every  corner 
they  met  a  terrific  blast,  that  drove  the  sleet 
against  the  carriage-windows  and  shut  out  every 
object  but  that  of  the  white,  accumulating  snow. 
To  the  lovers,  this  protracted  and  storm-beaten 
transit,  these  few  moments  of  blissful  confi 
dence,  were  a  season  of  inexpressible  happiness. 
It  opened  a  living  fountain  of  joy  in  both  their 
hearts,  from  which  was  spanned  across  their  tear- 
filled  sky  the  heavenly  bow  of  promise,  uniting 
the  bitterness  of  this  parting  hour  with  the  sun 
shine  of  future  years. 

As  they  sat  clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  Faith 
—  the  noble  and  true-hearted  friend  —  folded  her 
hands  in  inward  prayer.  That  silent  prayer  was 
perhaps  the  only  one  that  reached  the  throne  of 
God,  and  drew  down  upon  this  perfect  union  of 


NAOMI.  445 

their  young  hearts  the  bliss  of  perfect  faith  in 
each  other,  and  trust  in  God,  that  never  failed 
through  long  years  of  absence. 

All  too  soon  they  reached  the  wharf.  Dan 
gerous  as  was  the  passage  to  the  vessel,  it  was 
for  each  of  them  a  salutary  fear,  absorbing  every 
faculty  and  every  thought,  and  leaving  no  place 
for  the  anguish  of  parting.  That,  like  the  an 
guish  of  death,  was  past  ere  the  straining  eyes 
of  Herbert  or  Faith  were  turned  from  Naomi's 
fluttering  garments  as  she  ascended  the  side  of 
the  vessel,  and  every  outline  was  lost  in  the  con 
fused  mingling  of  sleet  and  snow. 

The  last  object  that  was  visible  to  Naomi  was 
Sambo,  standing  upon  the  extreme  end  of  Long 
Wharf,  his  body  bent  forward,  his  white  head 
bared  to  the  storm,  and  holding  in  each  hand  a 
handkerchief,  which  he  waved  in  token  of  his 
farewell.  Naomi  had  been  calm  till  then  ;  but 
this  simple  expression  of  the  attachment  of  her 
humble  friend  went  straight  to  her  heart,  and 
she  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears. ' 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

CONCLUSION. 

THE  next  morning's  sun,  as  though  in  mock 
ery  of  the  woe  of  the  preceding  evening,  rose 
upon  a  cloudless  sky.  The  storm  had  ceased, 
the  winds  had  hushed  themselves  to  repose  dur 
ing  the  hours  of  darkness,  the  black  impenetra 
ble  cloud  had  rolled  away,  and  when  Herbert,  at 
the  earliest  dawn,  looked  out  upon  the  bay  and 
the  broad  waters  beyond,  the  vessel  that  bore 
Naomi  away  had  spread  her  white  wings,  and 
fluttered  now  upon  the  extreme  horizon. 

The  sun  shone  from  a  pale  blue,  serene,  and 
cloudless  sky,  over  the  broad  fields  of  spotless, 
new-fallen  snow.  The  rain  descending  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  night  had  frozen  in  glittering 
drops,  and  hung  the  whole  earth  with  wreaths 
of  diamonds.  How  did  this  gorgeous  splendor, 
hollow  and  cold,  and  this  soft,  blue  sky,  that  was 
fitted  to  smile  on  the  tenderest  love,  the  purest 
joy,  — how  did  they  mock  those  mourning  hearts 
that  bled  inwardly,  drop  by  drop,  and  that  would 
never  cease  to  bleed  till  the  anguish  of  years  of 
absence  was  lost  in  the  joy  of  a  reunion ! 


NAOMI.  447 

That  this  reunion  of  the  two  young  hearts 
that  have  formed  the  principal  point  of  interest 
in  my  story  did  take  place,  at  no  very  distant 
day,  we  are  assured  by  the  family  records  and 
the  government  archives  of  a  neighbouring  State. 
Among  those  Quakers  who  came,  six  years  after 
the  date  of  our  humble  narrative,  to  settle  the 
beautiful  State  of  New  Jersey,  and  to  enjoy  "  its 
liberal  and  paternal  government,"  were  Herbert 
and  Naomi  Walton. 

Naomi,  after  her  return  to  England,  associated 
principally  with  the  followers  of  George  Fox 
and  William  Penn.  The  more  intimately  she 
became  acquainted  with  the  pure  principles,  the 
holy  lives,  and  the  simple,  but  sufficient  faith  of 
that  persecuted,  but  noble  sect,  the  more  fervent 
ly  did  she  bless  God  that  she  had  been  able 
while  in  New  England  to  preserve  the  simplicity 
of  her  faith,  and  to  separate  it  from  the  irrational 
and  mischievous  raving  of  those  wild  fanatics 
with  whom  she  had  there  been  confounded.  She 
looked  back,  indeed,  upon  this  infancy  of  her 
religious  life,  as  though  she  had  been  but  a  babe 
in  knowledge ;  but  the  essential  faith  of  the 
Quakers,  she  had  then,  amid  imprisonment  and 
oblocjuy,  been  able  firmly  to  hold,  and  grapple  it 
to  her  heart  and  conscience,  —  "  The  sensible  and 
constant  direction  of  the  spirit  of  God  in  man." 


448  NAOMI. 

She  had  since  added  to  this  essential  faith  the 
instruction  and  the  graces  of  a  full-grown  Chris 
tian.  Humility  continued  to  form  the  founda 
tion  of  her  character,  upon  which  had  been  built 
the  beautiful  proportions  of  Christian  grace,  form 
ing  an  harmonious  whole,  lovely  to  look  upon, 
comforting  and  elevating  to  those  who  lived 
within  the  shadow  of  her  blessed  influence. 

And  Herbert,  —  his  was  a  severer  trial,  to  sus 
tain  unharmed  the  assaults  that  were  made  upon 
the  integrity  of  his  faith,  the  constancy  of  his 
love.  But  he,  too,  experienced  the  omnipotence 
of  truth.  He  waited  patiently  in  the  darkness, 
tarrying  for  the  dawn.  Truth  and  justice  came 
at  length.  He  waited  not  in  vain.  Found  faith 
ful  to  the  last,  I  leave  to  my  young  readers  to 
imagine  the  bliss  that  attended  his  reunion  with 
Naomi. 


THE   END. 


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